


The Way of The Batman

by KDtheGhostwriter



Series: When The Night Falls [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), DC Extended Universe, Justice League (2017)
Genre: Batman & Robin: Reloaded, Detective Noir, Martial Arts, Military, Organized Crime, Other, Revenge, Rogue!Batman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-05-01 13:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14521134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDtheGhostwriter/pseuds/KDtheGhostwriter
Summary: Having barely survived the events of INVASION, Bruce Wayne returns to Gotham and finds a city on the verge of exploding. He dons the Cape & Cowl once again to exorcise the Demons of Arkham, but the mission is complicated by multiple figures from his past. It's a whole new World. And it wants The Batman dead.





	1. Let's Put A Smile On That Face

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back, bros!  
> It's once again time to dive back into that _other_ Universe.  
>  I'm working pretty blue for this movie. Hard 'R' peeps. So, proceed carefully if you are bothered in any degree by the following elements.
> 
> \- Scenes of intense interpersonal violence; Allusions to abuse and gaslighting; Mental health and similar themes; Course language throughout; Batman's problematic interrogation techniques
> 
> No set update schedule. I'll shoot for one a week like DoJ, and bump it up if I like the progress. (I've been re-working the plot. Go figure.) So, if you're cool and I'm cool, then we can get things rolling. Thanks as usual for stopping by. I appreciate ya.

** ARKHAM ASYLUM **

 

_clank!_

“Wha- Hey! This ar-”

_bang! bang!_

_thud!_

“H-ho… Please don’t kill me. I-”

“Shhhhh… Let me tell you a secret. In exactly ninety seconds, I’m going to throw that switch over there and open every cell block in this building. The best exit is that way. If you make it out alive, you will have earned your freedom. Go now.”

_tap-tap-tap-tap…_

…

_click!_

_buzz! buzz! buzz!_

“No, my fellow patrons this is not a drill. It’s your always-present ray of sunshine, Lex Luthor speaking and I have a very important announcement regarding your immediate future! You see, it occurred to a visiting friend of mine that things have gotten much too stuffy in these old halls. I fancy a renovation myself, but I would never want to risk your safety. Thus, my proposition: take your leave and go forth to the places you will soon belong! As I transform this Criminals’ Bastion into one suited for the world’s greatest mind!

“Until next we meet. Goodbye…” _mwah!_ “And goodnight.”

_click!_

…

“Boy! Will it ever be busy around here!”

 

“Open it! Open it up, I said! We’ve got business with this one!”

_clang!_

_buzz! buzz! buzz!_

**_Warning! Warning! Proximity Alert! Quarantine Broken!_ **

“Wakey-wakey, Ice Man!”

“Hmm? What’s the mea…? Grr… Cobblepot. Leave me be, wretch!”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but there’s a jailbreak on, mate!”

“Why should I care what you animals do?”

“Just don’t ‘ave it licked, do ya? Get him on his feet!”

“C’mon, up ya go, Freeze.”

“I didn’t come ‘ere makin’ requests, Victor. You are coming with me, because I know you still ‘ave a neat little cache of goodies socked away.”

“That’s none of your business!”

“It is now, old boy! Do you wanna know why?”

“Go to hell!”

“Ohohoho! Some fire left in this one! Let’s fix that!”

_smack!_

“You work for me now! And you will give me every bleeding last scrap of tech you have because _you_ are gonna help rid me of a very persistent problem. To be specific, a Bat problem.”

“Feh! The Bat has nothing to do with me. I never want to see him again.”

“Oh, there’s won’t be nothin’ left to see when I’m done with him, Doc! Word’s been going ‘round about a new compound on the Port side. Why, you should be honored I’m inviting you along!”

“…Honored?”

“Sure! I’m givin’ ya a chance to be on the winning side after all! Hold tight to your britches, boys. The Regime is coming to an end.”

 

\---------------------------

 

**GOTHAM**

**PRESENT DAY**

 

The man known as Black Mask was sitting at a large oaken desk, counting through a large pile of money. The room was hazy with cigar smoke, even as the lit stub sat unattended on a nearby tray. A single man stood guard, counting through his own portion of the earnings.

“Pretty good take, eh?”

“Yeah, Tony, pretty good.” Sionis reached over to grab the cigar and clench it between his teeth. “That dust-up in Metropolis couldn’t have been timed more perfect if we pulled it off ourselves. Got all the First Responders away from the job.”

“Hell yeah! Wait… _Did_ we pull that off?”

“No, you idiot! It was dumb luck, which is something you need sometimes.”

“Geez, you think it was another alien attack?”

“Dunno and don’t care. What’s important is we made it back home. It’s a miracle these days when you can walk outside and _not_ run into a costume. What are you doing?”

Tony was bent over with his ear close to the wall. “You didn’t hear that?”

“Didn’t hear nothin’. Get away from there. We need to talk about the next gig.”

_phssssst!_

“There it is again!”

“You been messing with the dope again, Tony? Shit makes you paranoid, man. Start hearing voices in your head.”

“Last I checked we were still in Gotham, Roman. This town is the one place you can’t afford to _not_ be paranoid.”

Tony leaned in closer until his ear was touching the wall. Black Mask took a drag of cigar and went back to counting in silence. That silence was just enough for the room’s occupants to hear…

_phssssst!_

_click!_

“Oh, shi-!”

_BOOOM!_

“Ton!”

Black Mask rose from behind his desk and picked his way toward the rubble in the center of the room, which was now exposed to the elements outside. He lifted a panel of wood, found a corner of jacket, and pulled with all he had until the rest of Tony appeared from underneath the pile of books and debris. He smacked the man's face in an attempt to rouse him, but to no avail.

“Wake up, you wuss. You still owe me a round at happy hour tonight.”

“Roman Sionis.”

He froze at the sound of his own name. Not his name by itself, more the voice who spoke it. A distorted warble cutting through even the pounding rain outside. Sionis didn’t dare turn as the footsteps grew closer; he didn’t make a move even as the steel-reinforced boots came into view. Then, he swallowed thickly and looked up to see the silhouette of Gotham City’s Creature of the Night.

"Don't worry. The gel charges are harmless. Mostly."

“Batman…hah. Word around the block was you were dead.”

“I was.”

“N-now you’re not?”

“Correct.”

…

“Whatever you’re thinking right now, don’t.”

Black Mask ignored this advice and made a break for the front of the desk. A single chance, he reasoned, and a shitty one at that, but it was more than most people got against the Dark Knight. Slamming his knee into the broadside of the desk dislodged a compartment that he tore free from its moorings. He grabbed the pistol inside and whipped around to discharge every round he had.

The turn was only completed halfway. The Bat covered fifteen feet of distance in seconds and was holding the other man’s arm in place before he could brandish the weapon. Even while only using one arm, it didn’t budge.

“That was a very bad idea.”

Sionis hit the ground as Batman struck with his free hand. Even through the mask, he could feel the cartilage of his nose threaten to give way. His vision swam as he covered up and shrank back into the wood structure behind him.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?! My guy over there needs a doctor!”

“You’ll need one, too, if you don’t tell me where he is.”

“He? What are you- Oof!”

Both hands were now off the mask and on top of the boot trying to squash his sternum. More pressure was added and his breath became short.

“This is _not_ the night for games, Sionis. You know where he is. Tell me!”

The boot was removed so Black Mask could rise to a knee.

“Dunno…hah…why you think I’m worried about some pretty boy poser from the North Side. But you’re dead wrong!”

The Black Mask’s final last chance: a switch blade concealed in his pant leg that was swiped blindly upward and quickly halted. Batman was utterly unsurprised by his attack and didn’t let go as Sionis tried to remove his arm from the vigilante’s grip. He tried, in vein, to move again as the knife was pointed to his chest.

“I told you,” was all Batman said before the knife began to move forward.

The Bat was expending maybe a fraction of his strength but it was still enough to inch the blade forward even with full resistance. Sionis looked into Batman’s eyes and saw a cold impassiveness. There was no spark of fury or flash of emotion, and he didn’t flinch at the man’s scream when the blade broke through his shirt. Without thinking, he forced the knife back and threw his hand in front of his torso. For a half-moment, he believed Batman might relent – might let him go. He scowled up at the armored man, trying to call his bluff. That scowl vanished as the blade broke skin.

“AH! Okayokayokayokay! Cool it, cool it, cool it! Alright, _shit!_ Ever since he got out, he’s been goin’ to that new joint downtown. The fancy-ass, high-rise eatin’ place. He’s there almost every night, ‘round this time.”

“And if he’s not there?”

“Probably not far. Gotham’s got pretty small since you left, Bat.”

“I know.”

Batman released his hold, the knife clattering to the ground. Sionis didn’t look to see him leave as he clutched his hand but heard receding footsteps to the other side of the room. Then, something curious happened. Footsteps returned and a shadow loomed over him. Batman had the discarded gun hanging slackly in his hand. A gloved finger tapped against the trigger guard as he looked down and away, focusing on an unseen point.

Still gripping his hand, Sionis tried to slink away to somewhere – anywhere else. He fumbled and sent the knife handle scuttling away, which snapped Batman’s attention back to him. His back was flattened against the desk now, hands raised in relent. He held his breath and waited.

Then, he spoke.

“Hope you’re ready, Batman. Cause if you go down this road, you are in for a soo-prise. It’s a whole new game. Not even you can win this time.”

“Willing to put a wager on that?”

“Sure. My career against your life.”

“Bet.”

And then Batman was walking out of the room the way he came.

“Hey! My gun! How am I supposed to protect myself if I don’t have my-”

_thump!_

The answer came in the form of the gun, thrown barrel-first into the desk.

 

\---------------------------

 

“Do you think your brother’s coming tonight, Mario?”

The elder Falcone brother sipped more of his drink as the rain pattered onto the tall glass panes before him. He’d made his way to the far side of the lounge to avoid just this very question. It was asked often enough since he came back. Mario was able to plea his way out of the more serious charges in the Thunder Corp probe. His brother, though…

“Lex Luthor takes one step outside of Arkham, he’s fuckin’ dead.”

“Mario?”

Falcone blinked twice and flushed slightly, now aware of what he said.

“Nothin’, Stacy. Ancient history now. Meet me back at the bar and I’ll order us another round.”

The woman nodded brightly at that and walked away. Mario downed the rest of his drink in one go. It had gotten harder to even enjoy a simple night out with friends. Something about Gotham: always a trash town but not without its character. It was different now. The temperature was high, like it was never more than six seconds away from something stupid happening.

“Look! Outside!”

Speaking of stupid things, who would be dumb enough to fly a plane so close to a building downtown?

“Oh, hell.”

A pair of floodlights lit up the dining area, and Mario absconded his glass and ran for the exit. He and the other diners hit the floor as the bay windows were shattered completely by a huge concussive force. It was a panic when everyone found their bearings and scrambled back to their feet. Mario did as well and was almost to an exit when a second blast knocked him off his feet back to the center of the room.

The lights from the hovering aircraft were extinguished; after, a hiss as the hatch released. Mario couldn’t make out the figure stepping out of the cockpit, but that didn’t matter. If the cape unfurling as the figure jumped down into the room wasn’t clue enough, there was only one man who could even think of pulling this stunt.

“You coulda killed me, you psycho!”

“I didn’t.”

The Batman had never been talkative in the brief-but-painful interactions the Falcone troupe had shared with him in the past. Even so, there was something unnerving about the brevity of that sentence. There was no intent in his body language. As if he, quite simply, blew up a penthouse restaurant for no reason. It was crazy, even for him.

“Something different about you, Bat. Those aliens bastards do a number on you, or what?”

His eyes landed on the Batarang gripped in Batman’s right hand. Mario Falcone rose to a seated position, managing a laugh.

“Whatcha gonna do with that, tough guy, huh?”

“Something bad, unless you tell me what I need to know. Where is she?”

“I got nothing to say to you.”

Falcone felt an object whiz past his head, far too close for comfort. He lifted a hand to his left cheekbone and came away with a smear of blood. When he looked up, Batman was statue-still, waiting until the Batarang flew back into his hand.

“Where is she?!”

“Look, man, I can’t. J’s gonna kill me if he finds out I gave him up. He _always_ finds out.”

Batman kneeled down to Mario’s level.

“Did he make it worth your while?”

“J always makes it worth the while. He didn’t say nothing about this, though.”

“I’ll tell you something else.” Batman concealed his projectile. “Her name is Lois Lane.”

Mario sucked in a breath to steady what would surely be a panic attack soon. “ _That_ Lois Lane?”

“Hm.”

“Shit, man. I didn’t know.”

“And that’s why he called you.” Batman stood to full height. “I’ll tell you what’s going to happen now. I’m going to get her home. Then, I’m going to find the Joker, and when I do I’m not going to lock him up. I’m going to put him _under_ the jail, where he can’t hurt you or anyone else ever again. But I can only do that if you tell me where.”

Mario rose to his seat again and scrubbed his hands over his face. Not much of a choice, really.

“It Pop’s old packing plant. Down by the wharf, you know the one. Hasn’t been warm in ages. No one’d think to look. There should be a schooner docked on Pier 2. That’s-that’s where… Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Be better. Leave this life behind, Mario. You still have a chance at something normal. For some of us… It’s just too late.”

He watched Batman re-enter the jet and speed away, never moving an inch, hardly believing what just happened or what he'd been told.

"I gotta ditch this town."

 

\---------------------------

 

“Begin Transmission: Frequency – 188.9.”

**_Beginning Transmission_ **

“Clark, it’s me! Go to the Falcone Ship Yard on the Southeast End. Look for a small fishing vessel. I’ll deal with Joker. Batman out!”

**_Ending Transmission_ **

Not a second after the connection was cut did Batman see a streak of blue tear overhead in the direction of the South Quarter. Moments later, the same streak was moving the opposite direction, back to Metropolis.

“Alfred, Kent has Lois.”

_“Wonderful news of course, Master Wayne. Would I be forward in saying the mission is accomplished, then?”_

“Not even close. I’m going after him.”

_“Suspected you’d say that. If that’s the case, might I sugge-” sszt! sszt!_

“Alfred, override! You’re being jammed!”

_sssssssssszt! “Mind if I cut in, Bats?”_

“Joker…”

_“So very observant! You know, I bet if you really put your mind to it-”_

“Shut your mouth! I’m taking you down, here and now!”

_“Oooh! We haven’t had a proper chase in years! How about some roleplay? You be the big strong hero, and I’ll be the fleeing damsel playing hard-to-get! Toodle-eoo!”_

_sszt!_

_“What on Earth?”_

“Nevermind him. Did you triangulate the signal?”

_“I know it’s in your area, but I can’t seem to pin it down. Almost like it’s moving.”_

“I see it! Batman out!”

The Batwing was pushed further out into the bay’s open waters. A speed boat powering across the turbulent waves. It was no match for the Batwing’s horsepower, but there was still the matter of making it stop. Batman flipped two switches overhead and pushed a button on the main console.

**_Harpoon Activated_ **

With another button press, the hook was fired off and imbedded into the hull of the vessel. Its motor kept running despite this; with a swipe across the main console’s touch screen, an electric current was sent down through the cable, rendering the vehicle inert. The large grapple was disengaged and slowly retracted as the Batwing’s hatch opened. No need to approach. The Joker was stranded.

_“HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!”_

Batman veered his aircraft upward to avoid the hatch flying off of the boat. Without getting closer, he could see a dummy sitting at the helm with a monitor replacing its head.

_“Looks like the joke’s on you! Just like old times.”_

Batman veered back further, if not for the explosion, for the debris that resulted. Joker counted on Batman thwarting him, which meant he was long gone.

_“Shall we file that under the one that got away?”_

“This isn’t over.”

_“It never is, sir. What should the next course of action be?”_

“Send a message to Barbara. I have a job for her.”


	2. Reminder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time now for some lore and world-building with a wee bit of character work. We like to call these the 'Quiet, now! You've gotta learn something!' chapters. Lol, enjoy.

The Clocktower was a satellite Cave of sorts, used by the Caped Crusader to conduct time-sensitive detective work without having to travel all the way back to the outskirts of Gotham where his main database stood. There were a select few people with access to the converted water tower: Batman, Nightwing, Alfred Pennyworth, and the red-haired young woman wheeling herself up to the main computer bay.

Barbara Gordon was surprised the system didn’t lock her out ages ago.

Here she was still - keying in her passcodes like nothing ever happened, even though the opposite was true. So _many_ things happened in such a short window.

To her knowledge, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne and Alfred were the only people on the planet who knew of her second life as Batgirl. She didn’t join the other two for every patrol, but she had always been welcome, and more often than not, that included the still-known-as-Robin Grayson sneaking her out of her apartment to thwart some kook in an animal costume.

You could call it dumb luck then, or just cruel fate, that the Joker would appear at her doorstep and shoot her, rendering her legs inert for the rest of her life. Batman stopped the Clown not long after that like always. Barbara had to hang up the cape, but she didn’t want that to be the end of her service in keeping Gotham safe.

After untold hours of begging that eventually included a triple-team of herself, Dick and Jason Todd, Bruce finally relented and let her put her prodigious tech skills to use. From then on, she would provide support to The Batman under a new mantle: The Oracle.

But even that only lasted so long. After Jason…

**_WELCOME, ORACLE._ **

“Hiya, old friend.”

Bruce hadn’t outright said the program was shut down, but she could sniff the hint well enough. After repeated attempts to help him, Dick and Barbara each made a decision. Barbara refocused on her studies, bypassing the Clocktower entirely. Dick moved as far away from Gotham as he could and gave his teacher the seclusion he longed for.

That was ten years ago. Now Bruce had a new team. A new family. And he was initiating contact with her. Could that mean he was getting better after all this time? Was he thinking of more than the mission for once?

“Batman, come in. Do you hear me?”

_“I hear you. Thanks for coming in on short notice, Oracle.”_

“It’s just us tonight. You can use my real name.”

_“Not in the field, I can’t.”_

Well, it was a nice thought.

Oracle didn’t respond right away, as she tried to center in on Batman’s signal. She was having trouble finding it, which is about when she realized that Batman wasn’t in Gotham at all.

“Bruce, where are you right now?”

 

Batman touched down inside of the damaged building and closed up his cape. There was but a simple tarp separating the interior office space from the outside air. On the other side of the sheet lay ruined desks and chairs once housing a bustling department of writers.

“The Daily Planet.”

_“What are you doing there?”_

“Looking for clues,” he answered, stepping to where Lois’ workspace should be.

_“It’s been a few hours since that place went up. First Responders would have cleared it out by now. Unless you think they missed something?”_

“They always miss something. On the first pass.”

_“Hey, you’re the detective.”_

“You’re a detective, too. Don’t forget that.”

Batman pressed the ear opposite his comm unit and activated the Tech Cowl. It improved his vision in the dark room, and highlighted points of interest that any forensics officer would have missed without the proper aid. Part of being the World’s Greatest Detective meant having the best tech, and the best help.

_“Alright, Batman, I’ve got the system here linked back to your network in the Cave. If you find anything, scan it and I should be able to get a reading on the setup.”_

“Wilco. Will you need the object to be intact?”

_"Preferably, yes."_

“Hm…”

_“I know that grunt. It’s Batman for ‘Jinkies.’ You’ve found something.”_

It was an object he found laying in one of the few undamaged portions of the room. He didn’t see it at first due to the extra tarp shrouding the hallway from the main room. Batman crouched down but did not pick up the brown wig poking out from behind the trash can.

_“What is it, Batman?”_

“I’ll tell you when I know.”

Without, the Tech Cowl giving him a peek, looking into the trash bin might not have even occurred to him. It’d become a crutch if he wasn’t careful. For the moment, though, he was thankful as he pulled a beige jumpsuit from the container.

“Jerome.”

_“I’m sorry?”_

“There’s a janitor’s uniform in the trash. The name tag says ‘Jerome.’”

_“You’re joking.”_

“I don’t joke. Can you run a search on any recent hires to the Daily Planet’s staff?”

 _“Given recent events say…_ everywhere _, don’t you think that’s a bit much?”_

“I didn’t ask for your advice. I asked if you could do it.”

…

“Can you do it, Oracle?”

_“You’re not expecting me to like it, are you?”_

“I’ll be expecting an address.”

_“Then I can do it.”_

“Thank you.”

Batman dropped the uniform back into the bin and moved past the tarp to the section of missing wall. Even at night, Metropolis had a certain sheen reflecting off the buildings and streets below. A city that looked safe everywhere, especially compared to her neighbor across the water. What did the citizens of Metropolis think about Gotham hitting so close to home?

_“Never meet a rule you wouldn’t break. You’d have made a good cop, Bruce.”_

“They would have never let me through the Academy.”

_“Why, because of who you are?”_

“Because of what I am.”

_“OK. I think I may have something.”_

 

\---------------------------

 

The high-rise flat Batman snuck into was in an admittedly unpalatable part of the city. But since that city was Metropolis, it was still quite manageable for someone who robbed banks in their spare time. That certain someone had been here for some time, if the chattering teeth left covering the floor could be spoken for.

Batman stepped down into the room and activated his Tech Cowl. He wasn’t searching for a person. Anyone staying here would have surely left long ago, but they wouldn’t have had much time to pack away their contraband. Any contraband - in his experience – large or small was enough to get him where he needed to go.

The search at first was futile. There were less gag toys than Batman expected. What there _was_ an abundance of was weaponry. Knives in the bedroom, guns in the sofa, explosives in the fridge. No expense spared for the sake of fanning the flames of chaos. When Alfred told him that some men only wished to see the world burn, Bruce brushed it off as pseudo-Jung garbage. A decade later, and an encounter with Darkseid under his belt; now Bruce isn’t sure he wasn’t very wrong all this time.

Batman came to a point in the living room and almost faltered, not because of what was there – no, quite the opposite. He turned off the Evidence Scanner in his cowl only to see the bare floor. Turning it back on revealed the cable he was sure he’d feel beneath his boot. It was beneath his boot, just a little bit further down than what it seemed.

Batman followed the path of the hidden wire back to a lone door further back in the living space. Scans revealed it to be a closet, and also occupied. There were no heat signatures, which suggested Batman might be getting some forensics after all.

The doorknob was struck off completely so that the door could be eased open. There was another dummy inside, this one bare, with yet another monitor perched upon it. On the blank screen, a small note was attached. Batman turned off the Scanner and plucked the note away so he could read:

“Meet me in that place.”

**_“It’s about time!”_ **

Batman jolted back out of the enclosed space with Batarang in hand as the Joker’s face flashed in front of him. He returned the projectile to its casing shortly after.

**_“Don’t get too excited, now, this is only a recording but…ooh! Such tender and loving care was taken in crafting this message. I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever find it but I should have known better. It is you after all. And now that you have found it, I’m sure you know what to do next. See you soon, Bats.”_ **

Batman didn’t move. The video feed was still rolling, and he’d never known Joker to be short-winded. There was no reason to think the Clown would give a short speech now.

**_“What are you waiting for, you big brooding dummy? We both know how this turns out. You’re going to come and find me. You can’t help yourself, can you? Sometimes, I wonder if all this will just end with one of us looking down at the other’s corpse, trying to work out what to do next. Question is: whose body will it be?”_ **

A hatch sprang open, followed by dull, repeated thuds of many heavy objects falling from the ceiling. Four cases of dynamite were hooked to the end of coiled wires dangling in the dark.

**_“Now get out of there, or you’ll ruin everything!”_ **

Batman was on the fire escape by the word ‘everything’ and leaping headlong over the railing. He was gliding through the air when the explosion occurred. As he landed on top of a billboard far below the room, the damage cascaded further down the row of units. Oracle ran a thorough check beforehand that showed minimal signs of life above the tenth floor of this complex. It made confirming the address easier, but now served to ease nerves regarding collateral damage.

Batman paged his aircraft and left the scene. There was nothing more he could do with the room destroyed and it was a huge explosion. Clark would have the fire contained before he made it back to Gotham.

 

\---------------------------

 

Bruce, seated in the Clocktower with mask off and cape on, finished pouring tea for Barbara before filling his own cup. He didn’t even pause to blow the steam from the cup before he sipped. Barbara did cool her drink and then let it sit while she continued speaking.

“What is it with him and bombs? Is he an arsonist?”

“He’s a sociopath who uses cognitive dissonance as a coping mechanism.”

“sounds familiar…”

“Hm?”

Barbara shook her head. “Nothing. I just don’t get it, Bruce. He’s been laying low all this time. Why here? Why now? Why her?”

“I can’t answer the first two questions,” a sip was taken, “the answer to the third is Lex Luthor. He discovered Kal-El’s civilian identity and used the Joker to take revenge.”

“That’s crazy! I mean, I get it. That’s the point, but if he knew who Superman was, why not just come out with that?”

“Firstly, he’s Superman.”

“True facts.”

“More importantly, Luthor has been committed to an insane asylum. No one would believe any word that he said. He wanted to punish Kal by hurting someone close to him.”

“And how close _is_ Lois Lane to Kal?”

“She’s his wife.”

Barbara’s expression twisted into genuine horror as she placed the ceramic cup down on the table beside her. As she rubbed her temple, she only uttered one word: “Shiiiiit.”

“Yeah,” Bruce said.

“Can’t you do anything?”

“He’s locked himself in Arkham.”

“Alright, so no. Great. Luthor is nice and cozy and the Joker’s a step ahead as usual. He led you right into a trap!”

“It wasn’t a trap. The bombs weren’t triggered until his message was delivered. It’s my fault for not realizing. I didn’t even check the space overhead. Who knows what evidence I lost.”

“You’ve been out of the game for a while. Almost getting vaporized by some huge alien dude will do that.”

“Alfred caught you up, huh?”

“We talk now and then.”

Barbara maneuvered her chair carefully in front of Bruce and shadowed his hands with her own to still the shaking of his cup.

“But talking with you might help me understand better.”

Bruce closed his eyes, nodded slowly. He understood and lowered his cup. He opened his eyes to see Barbara by his side and began to recite the timeline as best he could.

“After the Invasion, we went double time getting the Watchtower in the air. With Clark’s help we were able to finish construction in a month, maybe a little more but the wiring and hardware and networking, that all took another two months with me, Cyborg and Flash working full time. We did most of the work up there.”

“Hard to work the beat from the stratosphere.”

“I helped manage the project and set up the transporters. I was staying with Diana at this point, too.”

“Quick timeout: is this the same Diana on the Christmas e-card Alfred sent me?”

“That’s her.”

“OK, I know you’re Bruce Wayne and everything but this seems unrealistic, even for you.”

“It is. She’s miles ahead of me. But don’t tell anyone.” Bruce turned and put on his best deadpan. “It’s a secret.”

“Pfft! You big dork. How’d you convince her to take _your_ number?”

Bruce grinned. “She gave me hers.”

“Ugh! Shut up. Stop talking. You’re gonna make me mad.”

Bruce leaned back, breathing easier. “You asked.”

“For what it’s worth, by the way, if I had the choice between chilling in space with my friends and hoofing it down here, I’d take the former, please.”

Bruce, who had been threatening a smile up to that point, felt the familiar frown return.

“In fact,” Barbara thumbed the track pad on her chair’s armrest to scoot it back to the computer bay. “What was that the Joker said to you?”

“Meet me in that place,” Bruce said standing.

“Maybe,” _click!_ “this is the place he was talking about?”

Bruce leaned past the left shoulder of the chair. “A briefing. Is this from Jim?”

“Yup. He probably would’ve passed it off to you already, but you’ve been busy. I’ll give you the abridged version. Dad and his team were all over the Arkham exodus while you were out saving the world. Not that they could do anything. The timing was perfect. During the chaos of ‘Holy shit, is the World gonna end?’ Week the inmates slipped underground, in some cases literally. Then, when they were sure you weren’t coming, they started building up.”

The next pictures to appear on the screen all featured, at various times of day, a familiar neighborhood from the South Quarter with wooden boards and planks running parallel to the many buildings.

“Took these shots with my new drone unit,” Barbara explained. “Most people passed it off as simple construction. Nobody figured _what_ they were actually building until, well…” _click!_ “they built it.”

Different pictures now, all at night, of a huge, steel wall reinforced with columns of concrete. It was a structure large enough to warrant patrols by gunmen near the top.

“Pretty sure there’s a parable about asking for a giant wall and getting it in your backyard instead of Texas.”

“What is this, exactly?” Bruce asked. “A compound? An encampment?”

“Way bigger than that.” Barbara cycled back to the written briefing. “Dad’s squad is calling it Arkham City.”

“I should have never left,” Bruce grit through his teeth, more Bat than man now. “I should have went after him as soon as I knew.”

“And do what, exactly? Get beat to hell by an army of psychopaths? Again?”

“I’ve done it before.”

“That was years ago, and you hadn’t _just_ defended the whole Earth from an invasion. You keep breaking your back for a city that would rather see you gone. And you can’t dispute it because _that_ almost happened, too!”

“I know, Barbara! Please, don’t remind me.”

“Seems like I have to Bruce, because you still insist on doing this! You have literally a team of supers on call that could destroy this stupid thing in two seconds. Surely, they’d be down to help?

“Hmmmm…”

Bruce stepped sideways back to his original seat, leaving Barbara to track his movement.

“Ah! I know that grunt, too. It usually means something bad.”

Bruce sat down and began to refill his cup.

“Or at the very least, something highly inconvenient.”

“The League _could_ end this,” he said. “Quickly. But it’s not that simple. The truth is much more complicated.”

“I assume the reason is bureaucratic?”

“When we formed the Justice League, the goal was to defend the Earth against threats from off-world. Since then, there’s been a lot of discussion about what the team should do when the world isn’t in that kind of danger. Philanthropy is what was decided. Any available member helps where we can. The Aquaman single-handedly stopped the lava flows in Hawaii. Superman cleared out the debris in the Caribbean after Hurricane Maria. The Flash revived the power grid in Puerto Rico.”

“I can’t help but think this feel-good story is about to get derailed by a massive B-U-T.”

Bruce sighed as he stared into his cup. He tapped the side and counted the ripples kicking out from the liquid’s center.

“The unspoken part of that rule is that all members are independently responsible for working their own beats. You can team up with whomever you want and you can do any hero work on your own time, but all official League business is non-combative. No exception. No government coups, no conflict zones, no regime intervention, and nothing even _approaching_ this.”

Barbara’s eyes shifted before she removed her glasses to clean them on her shirt. She didn’t put them back on as she moved her chair back to her own cup to finish the drink. Once she did, the cup was placed upside down on the table, and the glasses were returned to her face.

“You’ve been talking to Amanda, again.”

“I never stopped talking to her. She’s supplied information on a number of cases. Helped me track down the White Portuguese, and Lex Luthor.”

“Jesus, Bruce! Do you only rank your friends based on the intel they give you?”

“When did I say she was my friend?”

“Didn’t think twice about selling out your friends in the League…”

“What I _did_ was prevent a global crackdown on supers!”

…

“That means Dick, too.”

“I’m sure he appreciates the favor.”

“I don’t need his thanks, Barbara. I just need him free, and alive. The same goes for you. Shutting this down after…Jason was…” _ahem!_ “It was the only sensible thing to do. This is my war. You shouldn’t have been anywhere near it.”

“But Dick and I both made our decision to stay and everything else that comes with that. I miss Jason too, but shutting us out wasn’t right. And now I’m afraid you’re about to do the same thing that almost killed you.”

Barbara began to wheel away from where Bruce was sitting, moving toward the elevator. She paused at the open threshold, perpendicular to the panel at the side of the door.

“I’m going home now, Bruce. I’ll give you your space and let you do this your way. I just want you to call me if you change your mind. You’ve obviously worked really hard to build up some good will for once. I’d hate for you to throw it away for someone that doesn’t care.”

As promised, she left Bruce alone with his thoughts. He could ask Alfred for council, but he knew the answer he’d get. This was nowhere close to a two-person job. It would be ‘incorrigible’ even for him, to try and apprehend that many targets over that amount of space. His night spent locked in Arkham was different. They thought they had _him_ trapped, when it was actually the other way around. They had nowhere to run, but now? Even if he knew where they were, there were three boroughs at least to comb through. His knee ached just considering the scale.

Bruce brought the still-warm tea to his lips and ignored the steaming liquid as it simmered his taste buds on the way down. Next was a tap to his gauntlet to bring up a holo-call with Alfred.

**_“Hello, Master Wayne. I trust the meeting with Miss Barbara went well?”_ **

“It did. She’s on her way home. It was good to see her again.”

**_“I’m certain the feeling is mutual, sir. The night is still young, however. Will you be returning to the fray?”_ **

“No. Alfred, I need you to lift the Batmobile.”

**_“Oh my. Is it that time of year already?”_ **

“It isn’t, but we need the car at peak efficiency. Gotham is close to a tipping point. We need to be ready.”

**_“Of course. What shall we do in the meantime, then?”_ **

“Our recon has been lacking as of late. We should fix that.”


	3. Lift Me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Success for one gives misfortune to others; eventually, all accounts are settled.

Alfred Pennyworth’s duties as a hired servant began – and sometimes ended – very early in the morning. He always began with a pot of coffee, brewed with genuine South American cocoa beans flown in by Bruce first-hand. Next was fixing his own small breakfast with some form of news radio droning in the background, followed shortly after by tending to his grounds. There was often little to tend to, but it helped pass the time until the day could begin proper.

The butler’s day never really began until he walked into the Glasshouse. On the more extreme nights, there were a mere four hours between retiring to his own house and returning to his charge later that day. Certain nocturnal extracurriculars made sure of that.

Alfred was back in the Cave after one such night, carrying a breakfast platter for his boss, seated at the main console. Bruce was asleep, finally, succumbing to frustration and exhaustion after a semi-productive search for more intelligence on Arkham City. Alfred looked over his slumped form and sighed soundlessly. He set the tray down on a nearby table and took a long look.

From this angle, Bruce looked like someone from a different time entirely. He was once again the boy about to shove off to boarding school, asleep on top of his studies instead of a supercomputer. It was a debate up to the eleventh hour whether or not he should go. Schooling was important, Alfred knew, and Bruce needed time away from the city. What else could be done to help a child so full of grief?

Alfred moved his hand to grab Bruce’s arm. When he didn’t stir, he gave a gentle squeeze.

“Bruce, my boy. How did we ever end up here?”

There was no answer.

“No matter how long we do this, or how many times you escape, I can never fully acquaint myself with the idea of outliving you. I know I made you a promise, but I made one to your dear Mother and Father as well. And… I feel like I betray them, everytime I let you put on that mask.”

Alfred lifted his hand to wipe the moisture from his eyes. Their work would continue soon enough, and he had a message to deliver to Batman which meant composing himself. A hand hovered over the row of silverware until the teaspoon was found and swirled into the cup full of warm liquid.

“I do hope you’ll forgive me, Miss.”

_ting! ting! ting! ting!_

“Master Wayne?”

Bruce blinked awake as he often did in his own quarters. There was no danger in the Cave, so he took his time acclimating.

“Alfred.”

“Eagle-eyed as always, sir.”

“Hrm. What’s today?”

“A meeting this morning I have promptly canceled.”

“Thank you.”

“And a message for you, as well.”

“Later, Alfred. We need to get back to work.”

“A message sent by Miss Diana.”

Bruce sobered visibly.

“She requires you to call her. Soon.”

“Right.”

Bruce scanned the console quickly for his phone. His hands were patting down his pockets even as Alfred held up the device for him to take. Bruce mouthed his thanks as the line rang and Bruce booted up his computer bay.

“Diana.”

…

“Uh-huh, I know. Yeah, Alfred-”

…

“No, I’ve been working. I have to stop Joker.”

…

“That’s exactly why! I can’t stop, not now.”

…

“Really? Even Hal?”

…

 _sigh!_ “Okay, I will. Just let me get cleaned up a bit, alright?”

…

“Yeah. You too.”

_blip!_

“Good news then, Master Wayne?”

“The Justice League has summoned The Batman to the Watchtower for a meeting.”

“Oh, dear. That sounds serious. Snap to it, then. Finish your food and change into something nice. Don’t want to keep your mates waiting.”

“Alfred, it’s not a board meeting, I’m just- Ah!”

The short exclaim was prompted by Alfred palming the back of Bruce’s head.

“Bruce Thomas Wayne, you are about to go on-board a secret heroes’ HQ orbiting the Earth and you will do so looking your level best. Am I understood?”

“…Yes, sir.”

“Very well, then.” Alfred relinquished his hold. “Let’s crack on.”

 

\---------------------------

 

It was mostly guesswork who would be on transporter duty at any given time on the Watchtower. Everyone had a base-level knowledge of how it operated and was more than capable of sending and receiving the few people on Earth with the means to reach the space station in this way. Bruce Wayne was one of these people, and he couldn’t help but feel a little relief at the person waiting to greet him on the other side.

“Barry Allen.”

“Bienvenido, Batman.”

An embrace followed, quick and easy. Even now, after opening up his life to so many different people, Bruce wasn’t a touchy-feely guy. Close contact made him anxious most days, but there was a select number he made due for. Barry was part of that very short list.

“How are you, kid?”

“Living the dream, two hundred sixty-four miles high.”

“I kept you all waiting, huh?”

“Yeah, you did. They’re all at the big table. Hal is more surly than usual today.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Nah, Bruce seriously, everyone is really keyed up right now. Maybe dial back the ‘you’ a little bit before we get out there?”

Bruce wasn’t prepared to hear that. Not from Barry, anyway. He shoved his hands in his pockets, frowning again, and walked into the corridor toward the main hall. The speedster was quite shorter and forced to use the slightest bit of juice to match stride. Bruce didn’t change his own.

“You keep looking at me,” Bruce said, more clipped. “Is there something in my hair? Fell asleep on the computer last night.”

“Nah, you’re good. It’s just weird.”

“What’s weird?”

Barry, in uniform, scrubbed his hand up and down in the air to bring attention to Bruce’s casual dress: dark pants and a long-sleeved shirt, GUNNARS in place.

“I’ve seen you kick so much ass, man. It’s easy to forget this is what’s under that suit.”

“Good news for me.”

“I mean, yeah but it’s like you’re two different people. Doesn’t that make things kinda wibbly-wobbly up there?”

He need not see Barry’s fingers twirling near his own head to grasp the insinuation. Bruce turned his head to hold eye contact, then faced back forward.

“We do what we have to, Bartolo. That’s all.”

Less than a minute walking brought the two to the main conference room. It was a place Bruce hadn’t been since he left to find Lois almost four days prior. Nearly every member of the team was seated at the large round table. Only Queen and Stewart were absent and Bruce was the only one not in uniform.

“Oh, how nice! He has his rich boy clothes on today.”

Bruce kept in a firm line toward the lone chair on the empty side of the table and ignored Hal’s provocations. Barry intercepted regardless.

“Hey man, don’t be a dick. He’s not here to start anything.”

Hal extended his hand as he nudged past and Bruce swatted it aside before it could grab his shoulder. He wasn’t even mad as Hal got up in his face. He didn’t feel anything outside of a mild annoyance. Above all of this, he was simply tired.

“What do you want, Hal?”

“Heh! Hear that? ‘What do you want?’ That’s all this joker has to say after disappearing for damn near a week.”

The phrasing of that sentence was enough for Bruce to snap into new focus. If provocation was the goal, then it was very quickly attained.

“There he is! This is the guy right here! Now maybe we can get things started!”

“Still not paying attention.”

“The hell are you…?”

Hal trailed off as Bruce held up the green Power Ring between his thumb and forefinger. It was a cheap little trick he learned years ago as he grifted his way through Europe and the Asian subcontinent. There was next to no reason for him to ever use it again – that was until he met such an easy target.

“I should do something very bad with this. I should, but I won’t. I’d rather it be a productive day.” Bruce extended his hand and flicked the ring back into the hallway he came from. “Go fetch.”

Hal moved to do just that but didn’t take his eyes off Bruce until he was at the threshold. Bruce was seated by this time, doing well to ignore multiple sets of eyes tracking him. Clark and Diana to his right, Victor sitting across from him, Barry and Jessica to each side of Victor, and Arthur at the other end.

Clark spoke first. “You left quite a mess to clean up.”

“The first was necessary. The second was…unfortunate, but I was on a trail and it paid off. I know who was behind the attack on the Daily Planet.”

“That’s what we’re here to discuss, actually.”

“You gathered the whole team to talk about this job?”

“No!” Hal dropped down into his seat, arms crossed with angry brows digging into his mask. “Everyone’s here to talk about your attitude. Spoilers: it sucks!”

Victor tapped twice, then swiped up on his tablet to fill the space above the table with two holo-projections. Towering over Bruce was aftermath footage of both the attack on the _Daily Planet_ and the high-rise fire he helped trigger. He guessed they expected guilt from him or to feel sorry for doing his job and were well off if that was the case.

“I get it,” Bruce didn’t try to keep the ice from seeping into his tone. “It’s no-harm-no-foul when a psychopath goes on a rampage, as long as he doesn’t do it in Metropolis.”

“That’s an interesting string of words,” Victor said. “It’s also incorrect. We saw what went down in Gotham, too. And while you were busy being an asshole, Clark and I held an interview with the boss of the goons that ambushed us at Heroes’ Park. Lady named Amanda Waller?”

Whatever anger had been rising in Bruce ebbed away as he realized with dull foreboding exactly _why_ he’d been called to the Watchtower.

“I know her.”

“We thought you might. She never mentioned you by name but, she told us enough about how she was able to take down half of the Justice League.”

“You wanna know what she said, Spooky?” Hal bounced in his seat, furious. “She said ‘The right guy in Gotham.’ The _right_ _guy_ , haha! Ooh! Here’s another! ‘I don’t sublet my tech, Jordan.’ You remember that shit?”

Bruce didn’t answer.

“About to board a flight to the End of the World and you still found time to lie right to my face! I would actually be impressed with the stones you had to do that if it didn’t make me _so_ _mad!”_

“Jordan,” Arthur slapped his forearm longways across the man next to him, “be cool, man.”

Hal followed Arthur’s eye back to Bruce, more notably Bruce’s hand, clinched into a shaking fist. He was looking off into nothing but still caught on to the sudden silence. Then, he saw what they did and quickly placed his hand beneath the table. He looked to Diana for…encouragement, admonishment, a reaction, anything. She still would not look his way.

“I’d like to think I know you pretty well.” Clark again. “Not as well as I thought, obviously, but I still know you wouldn’t do something like this for no reason.”

“Not that there’s a good reason to put your teammates in danger,” Jessica Cruz said. “If there is one, though, I’d like to hear it. All of us would. That’s the least you can do, Batman.”

Again, with the pseudonym. It wasn’t incorrect to use it. Batman was his codename; Batman was who he was. But the team had never opted to using the name when he was in civilian dress. It was always Bruce, even when he was in uniform on the Watchtower or in the Hall of Justice. It was only ‘Batman’ now.

“I can do that. Just allow me to speak without interruption.”

All members present looked at Hal, who sighed in exasperation.

“Oh my God, really? Two sentences from me is too much but he gets a monologue?”

Hal’s next words were muffled by Arthur’s hand.

“All you, bro.”

“Thanks, Curry. About two-and-a-half years ago, I had an idea after one of many sleepless nights that occurred after the Black Zero incident. You may remember it as the day Superman defended the Earth from a rogue, Kryptonian threat. I remember it as the day he and Zod tore through half of Metropolis, destroyed my building and killed thirty-two-hundred people, including my friend and business partner. Clark saved the planet, yes, but he also terrified it. No one thought something like Kal-El was possible, and then he comes out of nowhere and rips through skyscrapers like paper.

“Amanda Waller saw that, too. And she saw us take down Luthor on Christmas Eve. I don’t agree with her that often, but she’s veteran in her own right with fifteen years of experience in the field and I respect her opinion. Her opinion, in this case, was that no one organization should have the type of power accumulated that we do. I agreed with her.”

Bruce noticed the wounded look in Barry’s eyes and paused to try and reassure him.

“It’s not anything you did. It’s the optics. Superman alone is worth more than every nation’s military put together. You add Arthur and Diana. You too, Barry. It’s an obscene amount of power to leave unchecked. A.R.G.U.S. wanted it checked, and they ordered Waller to do it or they’d do it themselves, by force.

“The countermeasures were designed as a last resort, in case something happened. In the event of the League falling under some evil influence. If the only choice was to stop you, I gave Waller my word that I would and she gave her word to the government that the ‘supers’ situation was under control. That is why I did what I did.”

Jessica was leaned back in her chair, absorbing every ounce of information. She sighed into her hand, then looked at Bruce and said, finally, “That’s…a lot.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“It’s a lot, but that still doesn’t tell us why we got left in the dark.”

“My decision, Hal. I needed this plan to have as few moving parts as possible. Myself and Amanda Waller. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Damn right I don’t understand! Why in the hell would you give away our most damaging secrets to some random ass government official?”

Bruce tapped his forehead down onto the cool, metal surface and slapped the palms of his hands repeatedly on the table. After, he looked up and asked those present a rhetorical question.

“Did he not hear a fucking word I said? The League has been monitored by the world’s leaders since it parked itself up here. This Watchtower is a beacon but also a target. I didn’t stop Uncle Sam from peeking at your Instagram story. I stopped Uncle Sam from shooting a warhead up your ass! So, you’re welcome!”

“That’s it, right there.” Jessica interjected just as Bruce was working himself up. “That’s the major malfunction here. Not just the secrets and lies, which is one thing and, like, really bad? It’s this idea that we should all be grateful to you for putting our necks in your hands, without our consent by the way. And the idea that we would be even a little bit okay with signing our lives away to some agency we didn’t know existed.”

“The world is embattled, Jessica. People are anxious. After Black Zero and then Luthor and then” _ahem!_ “Darkseid, the very last news people want to hear is that another Superman or Shazam is hiding in their neighborhood.”

“Pretty hot take from a guy who spends half his time in a Cave.”

Arthur pulled a double-take at Jessica’s comment and let out a long, low whistle. He muttered an aside to Hal under his breath that had the latter man fighting back laughter. This interaction prompted Clark to speak up after a conspicuous silence.

“I appreciate your honesty, Bruce. I would have appreciated it much, much sooner but you’re talking now, which is good.”

Bruce shot a look at Diana. “I’d like to think I’m getting better in that area.”

“Even so,” Clark said, “this is an extreme breach of our privacy and trust. All in addition to being highly reckless and, if I may be allowed, extremely painful.”

Clark’s gaze pinned Bruce to the back of his chair as an extremely graphic memory of Batman digging a bullet out of Superman’s abdomen played itself back in his mind. Bruce slumped slightly in his chair, feeling guilty for maybe the first time since he arrived.

“Your behavior the past few days has been a concern, too. I realize that you haven’t been pictured in public with the Justice League but you’re still a member. The things you do reflect on this team, whether you see it that way or not.”

“So, this is why you called me up here? To talk me down like you always do?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“This ain’t an intervention, Spooky. It’s a reality check.”

Bruce turned up a brow at the term, confused by its use. Then he began to look around at those seated at the table one-by-one. Outside of Hal, everyone had a pensive, almost troubled look on their face that he didn’t like. His hunch was realized fully as he turned to Diana and saw the first show of emotion on her face. He could feel the sadness even from where he sat.

Bruce addressed Clark, dumbfounded: “Are you kicking me off the team?”

“Nope,” Arthur said. “We’re deciding if you should still _be_ on the team. Big difference.”

“We discussed this before you came,” Clark added. “We wanted to give you a chance to make your case. Now that you have, we’ll hold a vote. Any member in favor of Batman remaining on the team, say ‘Yea.’ Any opposed, say ‘Nay.’ Hal, you’re first.”

“Excellent. Before I cast my vote, I feel like I should say this. Batman, there’s clearly been some friction between us. Hell, as recently as ten minutes ago. And even though I think you are trash as a person, I still recognize and respect the fire it takes for you to do what you do with no power-up. It’s damn impressive. It’s also why I ran in to help you when Darkseid was turning your innards into your outtards. I vote ‘Nay’ because this shit you’ve pulled makes me feel like I got my arm crunched for nothing.”

Clark jotted down a log of Hal’s vote. “Barry, you’re next.”

“Bats, this sucks, man. I mean all of this. The counter-measures, the cover-up, the secret agent nonsense. I can’t speak for everyone else, but what hurts me the most is that you didn’t even think to tell us. What’s the point of being on a team if you don’t trust us with literal earth-shattering deets, dude? You’ve taught me so much about being a legit hero. Seeing you undercut that is pretty rough. I still believe in you, though. Call me dumb or naïve if you want, I can’t give up on the idea that everyone has the chance to get better. Otherwise why put the boots on? Put me down as ‘Yea,’ Kal.”

“I’ll do that. Jessica?”

“I’d never call you dumb, Barry, but I can’t overlook the dog-whistles that Batman has let slip today. We’re not very forgetful ‘up here.’ We know what your stance on Superman was when he first revealed himself. You called him a menace. You wanted him gone. Seems unlikely that a guy would change his mind on that. As far as your so-called counter-measures? It’s a non-starter for me. They put my fellow Lanterns in danger and they almost got Barry killed. I vote ‘Nay’ on this.”

There was nothing Bruce could say to that. His previously harmless counter-measures had been aped by A.R.G.U.S. and turned into something far more dangerous. If he hadn’t arrived to Metropolis when he did, who knows? How many people would still even be at this table?

“Victor, you’re up.”

“I’ll be straight up with you, Batman. I don’t blame you for my capture. Some ninja lady shutting me down so I couldn’t protect myself, thereby getting captured? That is one hundred percent your fault and for real not okay. Don’t know how you did it, don’t wanna know either. I just know I don’t wanna be around someone who’s got their thumb on the power button. My safety for your word? That ain’t a fair trade. It’s ‘Nay’ for me.”

“Alright. Arthur, what’s the word?”

Arthur paused a beat and ran hand down into his beard. He peered over at Bruce, nodded, then looked forward to Kal-El.

“Not to overlook the monstrous betrayal, because I definitely won’t. Onnnnnn the other hand though, Diana is the only family I have left outside of my Kingdom. The Batman protected her with his life. So, I will vote ‘Yea’ and you, Wayne, will never ask me for anything else ever again.”

Arthur held a simmering gaze with Bruce, until he broke it with a wink. Bruce nodded back, knowing that Arthur was being Arthur, but was also quite serious on the back end.

“What about you, Diana?”

Bruce felt his stomach hit his seat. If his math still worked, this could be the deciding vote. But Diana only looked at him once and hadn’t spoken a word since this business started. He felt it might even be better if she was furious outright; not to be, as the only thing she appeared to be was hurt.

“Did you speak of me with this Amanda Waller?”

It took Bruce a moment to realize she was talking to him. “No.”

“Yet you have developed a way to subdue me, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Would you act upon this knowledge?”

“Diana…”

“As a _warrior_ , Bruce Wayne! If it was your only choice, would you see your mission through to the end?”

It was possibly his one fear. The idea of him and Diana ever opposing each other. The outcome didn’t matter; they had never even sparred. Attacking one another – for practice or otherwise – wasn’t something they had any desire for. However, that didn’t stop them from making a mutual promise to do what needed to be done. Bruce specifically told her he would not hesitate, so he knew he couldn’t now.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Diana, Queen of Themyscira, leaned back fully in her chair. A short sigh was the only reaction she allowed herself after sharing such an intense and personal moment with her teammates. Then she simply said, “He stays.”

“Wow. Big surprise, there.”

“Do you have something you would like to share, Hal Jordan?”

Hal whipped his head up and shrank under Diana’s glare. He murmured, “No, ma’am.”

“Very well. That is three votes on each side. Kal-El, the deciding vote will be yours.”

And then the wait. Clark made him wait. Why? He wasn’t sure. They both knew how this ended. It was written on his face for the duration of the hearing. All he had to do was…say it and they could all leave. Go home, go on patrol, go back to their lives, anything but dragging this out. One more minute of waiting-

“Enough!” The chair clattered behind him as he shot up.

“Hey, c’mon man don’t-”

“No. We’re done here, Barry. I already explained myself once. I’m sorry you all got hurt and I should have told you sooner, but I won’t apologize for the decision I made. The counter-measures were a necessity, and if you can’t see the dangers of an unchecked Justice League exerting its will upon the world, then I don’t need to be here. I’m resigning from the League. Effective immediately.”

Enough steps were taken that Bruce thought he might actually make it back to the transporter without protest. That was until Barry zipped in front of him a few feet from the hallway. The unspoken question was clear, and Bruce responded with the negative.

“Not this time, kid.”

The young man relented with a shrug and stepped aside, letting Bruce pass. The last thing he heard was The Flash vacating the conference room in short order.

 

Bruce had just finished punching in the coordinates to the Cave in Gotham when Clark crept up on him. It was clear a conversation was what he wanted, so he delayed starting the timer on the teleportation sequence.

“Is Lois okay?”

“I hesitate to use the word, ‘okay’ but she’s alive. Thanks to you, Batman.”

“Just did my job.”

“She doesn’t blame you for what happened.”

“She doesn’t need to. You’re doing well enough for her.”

“Why would I blame you for someone else’s crime, when I could blame you for the ones you’ve committed?”

Something about the tone of that statement moved Bruce out of the chair. He was toe-to-toe with Clark. Anyone on the outside of this relationship looking in would have seen a very different picture than was being painted. Physically, by the numbers, Bruce towered over Clark. He was several inches taller, a bit wider, generally huskier. Both men knew the reality, though. Without the suit, Clark could run Bruce through with a pinky toe.

“Is there a point to this conversation?”

“You knew how I was going to vote.”

Bruce stepped away. “We all knew. You could have saved everyone a lot of time and stress by starting the meeting with ‘Batman, you’re fired,’ and letting us go home.”

“After everything that’s happened, I thought you’d appreciate the chance to do things your own way.”

“And I thought you’d take advantage of the chance to be a real leader for once, instead of waiting for me and Diana to tell you what to do!”

“Would you do it, then?”

“What’s that?”

“Diana. Would you gun for her like you did the rest of us? Does the mission mean more to you than your best friend?”

Bruce fired up the transporter and began walking to the pod. “That isn’t something you need to know.”

Clark shook his head. “There’s a darkness in you, Bruce. I don’t understand it.”

The particles around Bruce began to buzz, signaling his imminent departure – perhaps for the final time – from the Watchtower. He closed his eyes and tilted his head upward. Then, in Japanese he said:

[If you know the things that do exist, you’ll soon know the things that don’t.]


	4. DNA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little insider info: this story only works with Old Man Bruce.

The first thing Bruce did when he arrived back in the Cave was move behind the transporter and start undoing all of its various wires and hookups. Alfred watched with his hands in his pockets as the hardware began piling in the floor.

“Whatever are you doing, sir?”

“Housecleaning,” Bruce said with a strain as he pulled the last cord free. “Won’t be needing this for a while. Or ever.”

“So, that’s it? Back to square one?”

“No. We’re criminals. Always have been. Nothing’s changed.”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Master Wayne. Many things have changed. Including our company.”

“A visitor?”

“Plural, sir.”

Alfred pressed a number of buttons on the main console and brought up a camera feed of the cabin’s front grounds. The image was of a person Bruce knew very well conversing with another person he didn’t know at all.

“It would appear that young Master Grayson has come back home.”

“He has. Let’s not keep him waiting, then.”

Bruce decided not to think about the why too much on his way up. For once it didn’t matter. The possibility of this reunion was one he’d almost given up on.

 

\---------------------------

 

Bruce followed Alfred out the front door and saw his visitors in the same spot they had been. They were sparring now. One of them was indeed Dick Grayson: his adopted son, his best student, the first Robin. The other was someone he hadn’t seen. They appeared to be of East Asian descent. Or maybe Central, even. They were biracial, that much seemed clear. But why here, and why with him?

“Richard!”

True to his nature, Dick faltered, nearly tipping over at the surprise of both the voice and his birth name. He righted himself and turned to his guest to hold up two fingers, signaling how long he’d be gone. They nodded and Dick jogged the short distance, stopping with his arms outstretched.

“What’s good, B? I was in the neighborhood.” He paused a beat. “OK, I was in the time zone and I thought I’d drop by?”

“Sure.”

Bruce closed the distance to embrace, which Dick reciprocated, easily and with a laugh in his voice.

“Don’t remember you being a snuggly type, Big Guy.”

“I’m not.”

Dick stepped back. He was still smiling, but with more wariness now. “Soooo? You’re not mad about me dropping in unannounced?”

Bruce sent a meaningful glance to the space directly beside him. “ _Alfred_ and I will discuss that later. Right now, I’m just glad to see you. Glad you’re okay.”

“Well, yeah! Why wouldn’t I be okay? Something I should know?”

“You and everyone else.”

“Welp.”

Dick trailed off, so Bruce turned his attention back to the stranger on his lawn.

“Pronouns?”

“Oh, right,” Dick said, “I wondered about that, too. She, her, they. Anyone of those work fine.”

She had a lean, athletic build. Her sleeveless shirt made room for strong arms swathed with a trail of thin, ornate tattoos. She had cropped, shoulder-length hair, black like the rest of her outfit. The jogger shorts she wore revealed the calves of someone who used their legs often. Bruce could see the muscles coiled even as she stood in one place. She hadn’t moved since Dick left her side.

“She’s strong,” Bruce said.

“Big affirmative on that.”

“She with you?”

“Nah, we met when I pulled up.”

“So, who’s she here with?”

Dick sent a pleading look to Alfred, who Bruce knew without looking only shrugged. Dick puffed out a breath and shifted to face Bruce head-on.

“I’ll tell you, alright? But…you might not be happy.”

That was not a good answer. “What does that mean?”

“Perhaps I should answer that.”

Bruce closed his eyes and sent an exhale through his nose. To the very day, this was the only person who had ever managed to sneak up on him. He did an about face in the direction of his house.

“Talia.”

“Hello, Beloved.”

“Hoo boy! This is real now, ummmm! Bruce, good to see ya. I’m gonna step back over there and let you-” Dick sent his hands flailing in the small space before him until he caught Bruce’s expression, stopped and quickly said, “Bye.”

Bruce kept his eyes forward as Dick left and Alfred moved indoors. Talia approached with a purposely slow gait. They were taking each other in – measuring, remembering. She hadn’t been in Gotham for ten years and, to his knowledge, was living abroad since her departure. He tried to think of anything, any reason she would come back and came up empty. Their last goodbye seemed especially final when it happened.

“Much time has passed, Bruce.”

“What are you doing here?”

The question came out more gruff than intended and he regretted it quickly. Other than the shadow of a grimace, Talia didn’t seem to react.

“It’s nice to see you as well.”

“Please answer the question, Talia.”

“Does it really matter why?”

“You’re here now, ten years after you left me standing in my driveway, saying I’d never see you again. Yes, it matters.”

“You are the last person on Earth who should scold someone for disappearing. But if specifics are what you want, you may recall I sent you a package sometime last year. One that would have informed you of my situation. Did you receive it?”

An image flashed in his mind of the message sent to him that he never saw in person. On a ferry with Diana, he received a text from Alfred who only made the mistake of telling Bruce who the mail was from. Yet again that day, Bruce was rendered speechless. Opting instead to turn his eyes downward like a whipped dog.

“Mhm. Fortunately, I know you Bruce Wayne. Inside and out. That’s why I made this trip. To make sure the message was delivered, whether you wanted it or not.”

“Fine. What do you want me to see?”

Talia pointed to the edge of the lake. “Look there.”

Bruce looked again to the young woman standing next to Dick. The two were almost eye-level. Without knowing, Bruce had to guess was she was near Dick’s age, maybe a few years younger. There was no way he could say what triggered it, the realization that flooded him – the subtle shift of her weight or the anxious pursing of her bottom lip – whatever it was finally told him what it was about the hazel in her eyes he couldn’t shake. He’d seen them in the mirror earlier that morning.

He didn’t need to ask, but he had to hear it out loud.

“Who is she?”

“She’s your daughter, Bruce.” Talia stepped around him to put a hand on his shoulder. “Our daughter.”

The words made him draw in a breath. Not as big as he thought he’d need.

“You knew, didn’t you? From the moment you saw her.”

“Had a guess.”

“Do you remember?”

For a long time, it was the only thing he remembered. It was the night before his final test with Ra’s al Ghul that she came to see him. Spent the night with him. Talia’s father instructed him to be disciplined throughout his training. Bruce promised time and again that he would; in reality, Talia simply shortened the trip.

Bruce came back to himself and answered: “It was my last night on the compound. You told me I couldn’t face your father the way I was. I had to change. Let myself feel.”

“Would you deny it?”

“Don’t think I could if I wanted to.”

“You see, Beloved? It was not all bad between us.”

Bruce covered Talia’s hand with his own. “No, not all bad.” Then he gently removed her hand to place it between them. “And it was a long time ago. It’s good to see you, alive and standing here, but this is a lot.”

Talia, for the first time, let the affront show on her face. “Maybe if you kept the message I sent you.”

“Look, I don’t really care what was in that package. It doesn’t matter. This is exactly why we couldn’t make it work. Talia, normal couples don’t do this!”

“You have the nerve to be upset with me?”

“Upset because you didn’t tell me. That night we spent in Metropolis? You didn’t think to tell me then? I would have wanted to see her if I knew. I should have known _immediately_.”

“Would it have changed anything if you knew?”

“Having a child changes everything!” He gestured in Dick’s direction. “I should know! You don’t make it easier by showing up at random after years of silence.”

Talia scrunched her nose in a huff and dug into her jacket’s pocket. “Would you have changed your mind about this?”

Bruce took the object she held up to him. It was a bracelet, handmade. His gift to her after he completed his training in the art of Ninjutsu. It was a simple leather strap that stretched to fit, attached to a rectangular piece of metal adorned with the visage of a Bat.

“You kept this?”

“Every day I’ve kept it.”

Another memory came back to him as he thumbed the edges of the insignia. A more somber memory about leaving the first woman he ever loved to live what figured to be a short existence on the wrong side of the law. The scene in front of him years later was more than he would have expected from his life; and yet still it was on par with everything that happened in the last year plus change.

He looked again to where the young woman stood. She was facing Dick now, moving her hands in tight patterns. Bruce wasn’t as practiced with his sign language; he knew enough to catch that she was asking a question. Dick took a look at Bruce, then back to her before shrugging.

Bruce handed the bracelet over. “You should have brought her with you, last time.”

“Sadly, I couldn’t. Father would have none of it. She had her training, after all.”

“Training?”

“Look closer.”

“Hm. The tattoos?”

Talia slid up one jacket sleeve to reveal a similar string of tattoos. “She is a member of Ra’s al Ghul’s Elite Guard.”

“An Elite?”

“The first in many years,” the sleeve was slid down. “I will introduce you, and she can tell you herself.”

Dick was talking to her now as they walked up. He had been for a few minutes, while Bruce and Talia discussed things. Dick rivaled Barry for his ability to make people open up. Bruce was thankful for that talent, given the situation. Things would be difficult without it.

“Zhùyì!”

Talia gave the order to her daughter, who turned her attention forward.

“You will stay with your father for now while I conduct business in the city. Follow his instruction as you would my own. Do you understand?”

“Shì.”

“Very good. I will see you soon, child. Pay close attention, Bruce. She takes after you. In fact,” she added as she walked to the waiting vehicle, “I’d say she’s very much like you.”

“Talia!” Bruce jogged to catch up. “What does ‘business’ mean? Why are you really here?”

She surprised him by catching him in a hug; not knowing what to do, he simply curled one arm around her midsection. Then, she turned her head into his cheekbone to obscure her whispered message.

“There are forces at work, Batman. Unseen and moving as we speak. Gotham is changing. More so than you know.”

Bruce snuck his face into her hairline. “If something happens in this city, it’s my job to know.”

“True,” she said ducking away. “I suppose you’ll figure it out.”

The car was driving away shortly after their exchange, leaving him to walk back to where his remaining two visitors were waiting. Alfred had joined them again, standing idle near the water’s edge. Bruce stopped two feet in front of the girl and looked on in silence. It was lengthy and protracted, but she didn’t budge either. The most she gave away was a slight tilt of her head, which Bruce mirrored.

“Gosh,” Dick sighed, “I knew you’d be weird about this, Bruce. Hey, do you guys need a minute?”

“No,” she answered, then pointed to his feet. “You stay.”

“As you wish.”

Her running total was up to five words now. Only some of them were English. She was raised abroad but her mother spoke English and there wasn’t any reason to think she couldn’t as well, but Bruce didn’t assume things often.

“Know some English?”

She nodded.

“I know a few languages. Which one would you like me to use?”

She shrugged.

“Hm.”

[I figured you would look a bit younger.]

Dick, who himself knew traces of Cantonese shot a look at her, before smirking at Bruce. Bruce snorted. It was sassy, but progress regardless. And this was the dialect he knew markedly better than Mandarin.

[I thought you would be taller.]

She seemed surprised, both by the comeback and his flawless pronunciation. Soon though, her stance relaxed and she broke into a wide grin.

“Haha! That’s fair I guess.” She extended her hand. “I’m Cassandra.”

Bruce shook her hand firmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Cassandra. I’m sorry it couldn’t have been sooner.”

“Yeah, me too. I wasn’t able to travel much for a bit. And then there was the whole alien surprise.”

“Surprise is a good word.”

“After Black Zero, when we found out for sure you were…still alive, Mom was pretty serious about coming to see you.”

“She was?”

“She was, and I wanted to come with her.” Cassandra crossed her arms. “Then you guys elected the game show host to be your President. So, we decided to hang back for a bit.”

Bruce shared a look with Dick; both men nodded.

“That was a good decision. But you’re here now.”

“Yeah. Guess I am.”

“You here for the summer?”

“Um? I’m not too sure. I think I’m only here until Talia is done with…whatever.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure out details later. We should get you settled in. Alfred!”

“Master Wayne?”

“Are Cassandra’s bags inside?”

“Naturally.”

“Good. Can you show her around while I prep the guest room?”

“It would be my pleasure, sir.”

“Alright. I’ll see you all inside.”

Once Bruce left them, Alfred went to Cassandra’s side and pointed to the other side of the lake.

“You see the little shack on the far end? Sort of nestled in the grove there?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That’ll be me. We’ll start the tour over there. I don’t know how much interest you hold in gardens.”

“Actually, there were plenty of them where I grew up. We didn’t always grow food, though.”

“Likewise. Would you like to see?”

“Sure.”

“Alright, then. Whenever you’re ready, feel free to meet me at the gate’s entrance. It appears Master Grayson would like a word.”

As Alfred began to leave, Dick shoved his hands into his pockets. He hadn’t been given away completely, so when Cassandra looked at him it was with slight bemusement.

“What’s up?”

“Earlier, when we sparred. You were holding back. Going easy.”

“Pfft! No duh I was going easy! Busting up the old man's baby boy isn’t a great first impression.”

Dick chuckled at that. “Really now?”

“Plus, I had to see if you had anything on the ball. Otherwise, I wasn’t gonna bother. You’re pretty good, though. He taught you well.”

Dick sputtered for a proper response that statement. If he’d found it, there would be no need, as Cassandra was already walking away. Instead, he settled on a question.

“What is the game plan, Cassandra Wayne?”

The first sound that came from her wasn’t a word. It was a click made with her tongue against the roof of her mouth. The same sound Bruce made when he was annoyed by something. (She might have considered ignoring the question entirely.) Cassandra brought a finger up to mime a ‘shushing’ sound before the edge of her mouth curled up a fraction.

“Spoilers, Grayson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was never really a fan of how writers would portray this particular meeting. In one animated adaptation, when Talia introduced Bruce to their son, he said something along the lines of, "You expect me to believe that?" As if he hadn't already raised several children of varying ages. He'd still be mad, for sure, but the idea of him having a kid with the first woman he ever loved wouldn't be his major malfunction.
> 
> And so, Cass is here! This is a character I have many thoughts and feelings about. She started off as the daughter of David Cain, bred to be Ra's al Ghul's perfect soldier. She had the special ability to read people's body language and preempt their next move, but in the process was hampered in her ability to speak and comprehend words.
> 
> Overall, a fascinating character. So, I retconned her as Talia's daughter, who got a semi-normal upbringing, and still became Ra's al Ghul's perfect soldier. I saw a chance to further explore a character that has been conspicuous in her absence in any adaptation. Upon further research, when I discovered that Talia was of Chinese descent like Cass, I thought, "How could I not?" She won't have her Spidey Sense powers in this movie. Like Bruce, she's just a regular human who kicks lots of ass.


	5. Like Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way later than I thought. Cassandra requires a lot of attention but I love her already. I hope you'll like her, too.

He sniffed absently at the steam rising from his cup. Barely a sip was taken; yet still, he was leaned up against a wall, looking out onto his rear grounds. A smaller figure sat in the distance, legs curled into the grass. Maybe if Bruce stood here long enough, he’d figure out just what the hell he should do.

“Ayyy, Brucie!”

Maybe not.

“Who are we spying on today?”

“We aren’t spying on anyone, Dick.”

“Oh, yeah? So, that’s not Cassie I see crouched down out there?”

“It is-”

“And you aren’t just standing here awkwardly like you have been the past 30 minutes?”

“Richard.”

“I’m just sayin’. You’re either spying or angsting, Bruce, and I’m not sure which one looks better at this moment.”

Bruce took a sip, sighed into his cup. Dick tried his best to look serious in front of him, but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away. He was doing an admirable job of stopping his own laughter. Bruce had a fleeting thought of coaxing that laughter out of his former student and then, just as quickly, made a mental note of brushing up Dick’s interrogation skills.

“It’s Cass.”

“No kidding! And what is she doing, Detective?”

“ _Now_ who’s spying?”

“Wh- I’m n-! I asked you first and you wouldn’t tell me!”

Bruce peered forward out the small window and waited for the suggestion to catch up to the young man’s comment.

“You know what I meant,” Dick said, finally.

“I don’t.” _sip!_ “I spoke with Talia a bit last night. About the best ways to help Cass…”

“Adjust?”

“Yeah. She has a routine.”

“Is that why she gets up this early?”

“The time isn’t that important. What’s important is that she’s able to run through her paces.”

“Ah. The dummies set up in the grass. That you?”

“No. Alfred.”

“Alfred?”

“He’s a very well-traveled man.”

“For the sake of ending this convo, I’ll pretend that answers the question.”

“Thank you.”

 

Cassandra was meditating.

She knew Bruce would recognize this – the breathing exercises passed down from Ra’s al Ghul to center the body before engaging the world. Grayson probably had it figured, as well. Her energy shifted as she hesitated around that thought. She only met the guy yesterday. Outside of being a dude who slept on Bruce’s couch sometimes, she wasn’t sure what to make of him. Still, he was a guy trained by Bruce Wayne personally. He had to know at least a little bit, right?

_Other Soke focus too much on the method. In this house, Cassandra, you may use any method you’ve learned thus far. Your one focus is your goal. Your goal, no matter the cost, is to make it home._

It was that instruction from her teacher that influenced the creation of this exercise. She woke in the morning (well, afternoon lately) to perform the same Kata without fail. It was one of the first things she remembered learning. Speak, then crawl. Crawl, then walk. Walk, then kick. Kick, then punch. Punch, then run.

Repeated thuds of strikes muffled by practice dummies were the only thing Cassandra could hear in the damp, early morning air. Bruce picked a good spot to live for not being disturbed. Her feet barely touched the ground as she moved between targets, immobile though they were.

Unlike most Kata, there wasn’t a certain order of moves she needed to remember. What she did need to remember was a number. A very specific number of strikes to specific areas on each target, in succession, armed and empty-handed.

_shhk!_

A cut was applied in the same motion that the blade was unsheathed. She reversed her hold on the _tsuka_ and sprinted across the way to attack a target that was, up to this point, untouched. Not much later, she realized that her target number had been exceeded; still, she found no reason to stop.

_Often, you’ll be alone. You many even find yourself outnumbered. They won’t have a pattern, and they won’t let you stop. So, don’t. Not until you know the task is done._

Cassandra dug in her heel to stop herself. She was panting lightly; it was getting easier to sustain an elevated level of combat. She thought of Master Ra’s as she sheathed the blade, and what he might say. He would be encouraging, probably, but he’d also use it as a reason to increase her training.

 _Not harder_ , he’d promise, _but smarter._

She walked back to her starting position and lowered herself onto the grass. The _saya_ was unhooked from her sash to be placed in her lap. Cass closed her eyes again, but she wasn’t meditating. It could be called ‘meditating’ but was closer to frustration. Motivations of certain people were conflicting and had been long before she made her way to the States.

Ra’s al Ghul managed to use Skype for the first (and last) time for the sole purpose of instructing his daughter to find the detective and bring him back. Whatever _that_ shit meant. Talia, on that note, told Cass to disregard what she’d just heard. She would handle the Demon Head’s mission.

_“The old man has taught you all he can. If you really want to become stronger, you should ask your father when you meet him.”_

_“Will he teach me?”_

_“Yes, child. I’m certain.”_

Cassandra exhaled slowly and rolled her neck into a pop. She could tell Bruce was strong, but what she couldn’t tell was if it was in the past or present tense. No matter which angle she looked at it from, all she could see was a normal-ass dude lounging his fortune away in a secluded country estate with his cars and butler. There was nothing wrong with that. It just wasn’t going to get her where she needed to go.

“Hope you’re right, Talia.”

 

“Where did _that_ come from?”

“Ra’s al Ghul.”

“Isn’t that the guy who taught you?”

“The same.”

“That explains a lot, actually. She’s got a sword just like yours.”

“It’s a sword, yes, but it’s not like mine.”

“Really?”

“Mine was a gift. And it’s curved, unlike hers.”

“This is gonna make me look like a big gaijin dummy but, what’s the difference?”

“You’re not a dummy if you admit you don’t know, Dick. The difference is in the lifestyle. A warrior with no master more frequently uses the katana blade. Cass would, too, if she practiced the Kobudo but she doesn’t. She’s a Kunoichi, so she uses the ninjato.”

“How do you know all this stuff?”

“Reading, mostly.”

“Weird, cause I don’t remember any of this coming up during my _numerous_ studies.”

“Being a teacher means understanding what will and won’t work for your students. We honed your skills as fast as we did because you were able to focus on the important stuff first. Efficiency over-”

“Everything. Yeah, I know. It probably would have sucked, but I would have done it if you told me to.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t. I didn’t need you to be the next Batman. I needed you to be the first Nightwing.”

“Heh, mission accomplished, Sensei. What about Cassie?”

“…I don’t know.”

“Can’t blame you there. She’s Talia’s kid and trained with Ra’s, the leader of the League of Assassins. You know what that means.”

“We don’t know what it means, Dick.”

“We can guess. But I’ll let you figure it out on your own. She’s your kid too, after all.”

Dick pulled a pair of wireless earbuds from his pocket and tapped a button on his portable music player. He flashed a peace sign and made his way toward the main living area of the house.

He spoke aloud to no one in particular: “Looks like it’s gonna be a Surgical Summer.”

 

The footsteps were subtle, muted. That was how she identified the owner. Heavyset with measured movements, there was no hurry in this gait.

“Good Morning, Bruce.”

Cass stood up, then turned to face this man they called her father. From what Talia told her, being greeted with an impassive expression and extended hand was likely the norm. She frowned slightly but handed over her sword. Bruce removed the blade part-way from its housing, when the beginnings of a smirk appeared to creep across his features.

“That’s the real deal, all right. Did Chin make this for you?”

She nodded. “I helped. Did he make yours, too?”

“Never got a blade.” _clack!_ “My path was empty hand.”

Bruce gave the sword back and started walking the other way. The fact of him moving around the house instead of to the door gave a clue that he wanted to be followed. So, she re-clipped her sword and fell in step.

“Not gonna lie, I was wondering if you’d even met any of the others.”

“How’d you know it was me?”

Cass worked her mouth into a line. Looked like changing the subject was on the menu, too.

“Alfred is still at home. And Grayson could never stay quiet for that long.”

“Hm. I’ll let him know you said that.”

“Too late,” she said, grinning, “I already told him.”

“In not as many words?”

“Well…”

Bruce grinned, too. “You two will get along fine. He has that way with people.”

Their walk continued in silence for a bit. She felt out of place next to Bruce, who was re-working his neck tie as he trudged through the grass. Cass, in her own brief existence, hadn’t worn anything more formal than a Gi during exams. Just how long had Bruce been separated from that life?

“Five-eight,” Bruce said suddenly. “One-fifty flat?”

Cass mouthed ‘Oh’ as she realized what he meant.

“Five-eight, yeah. One-fifty isn’t wrong but,” she slapped her stomach through her shirt, “I’ve been eating extra carbs lately. So, we’ll call it one-sixty until I can get some greens.”

“I’ll put it on Alfred’s list.”

…

“Bruce, can I ask you something?”

“Can I ask _you_ something first?”

“Gonna make me pull the ‘Age Before Beauty’ card?”

“Dick beat you to it.”

“Dammit. Fine.”

Bruce fastened his tie, then ran his forefinger up and down her arm.

“Get these done the old-fashioned way?”

“Yup.” Cass pointed to an indigenous design and traced its lines downward. “A bucket of ink, a needle, and lots of time.”

“They’re well done.”

“Good news for me. Everyone who makes the Elites gets a sleeve, so I had to get it done. I don’t know. Maybe I would have got it done either way.”

“What about that one?”

He was pointing now to her left arm, which didn’t have a full sleeve – just lines of _Hanzi_ between her shoulder and elbow.

“Mom actually did these. After we moved to Hong Kong. It says, ‘Strong like the Flowing Water. Fierce like the Cutting Wind. Bright like the Moon and Stars.’ It’s pretty but…I was never quite sure what it meant.”

Bruce stepped in front of her, suddenly. He took her forearm with one hand and gently brushed over the script. She caught his eyes as he read over the characters and saw them change. It was subtle, like a memory washed over him. When he came back from that place, wherever it was, he let go of her arm.

“I think I know what she meant,” and then continued walking the grassy pathway. “You can ask your question now.”

Cass faltered briefly at his abruptness. Then, she decided that tender-footing around this issue wasn’t the way to go.

“Can you teach me what Ra’s taught you?”

She isn’t sure what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t the very distressed frown on Bruce’s face. Being nudged aside was an even bigger surprise.

“Hey!” Cass impeded Bruce and shoved both hands into his torso, pushing him back a bit. “You said I could ask a question!”

“I expected you to ask a better one.”

“Bruce, I know you trained with Master Ra’s and the others! Why won’t you talk about it?”

“Because it was decades ago. I’m not that person anymore, Cass.”

“That’s not what Talia told me. She said you’d help me get stronger.”

“Hmm. The last time I saw your mother - before I knew anything about you - I asked her to stay with me. For good. She told me she couldn’t and that I’d never see her again.”

Cass dropped her end of the conversation completely. This was all new information. She folded her arms and looked away from Bruce, stewing over what he said.

“Hey…”

Bruce tilted her chin upwards, then squeezed her shoulder.

“I don’t mean to upset you, Cass, but that was ten years ago. That’s a long time. And people change. The things that happened back then, it’s old news. If getting stronger is what you want, you’re better off asking Richard.”

“Grayson? What does _he_ know?”

“Won’t find out unless you ask him.”

“Right. I get the hint. This is a touchy subject for you and you’re being weird about it, whatever. Maybe you can clear this up for me?”

Cass angled to one side so Bruce could get a clear view of the building she was pointing to. The barren, ashen remains of the ancestral Wayne mansion. She felt the morning breeze ruffle her hair, as well as the sea of pale grass stretching before them.

“What happened?”

A simple question that didn’t seem to have a quick answer, as Bruce took a long time to think it over. Cass didn’t think much of the burned-out house on her way up, but the longer Bruce took to answer, the more concerned she became.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t _know?”_

“It was dark.” Bruce put a hand to his temple. “Flames everywhere. All so fast… I was just trying to get us out.” He clenched his eyes shut. “The next thing I remember is the officer putting the blanket around me next to the lake.”

Cass stood silent and waited for Bruce’s apparent discomfort to subside. Whatever it was that happened, it did a number on him, even now.

“Why didn’t you fix it? I doubt you have to save up for anything.”

Bruce scoffed at that little aside, before motioning Cass to follow him back to the cabin.

“Thought about it. Then I thought, what’s the use? Dick moved out. Alfred built his own place. Living alone in a home that big – it’s like being a ghost.”

“Now you’re here.”

“I am, but it’s different. Dick is back, and you’re here, too.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“I need to show you something.”

Without her noticing, they were standing in front of the garage. Bruce punched several buttons on an adjacent keypad and watched the door lift. It wasn’t bright enough yet; all she could make out were shapes of different vehicles. Even those were fewer in number than she would have expected. Bruce stepped in between two of his cars and grabbed hold of something. The slim rays of sun slithered their way to a jet-black motorcycle with a chromium finish. Cass stared dumbly at it and did the same to the helmet Bruce placed in her arms.

“You’re giving me the helmet?”

“No.” A beat passed. “Well, yes, but it’s not the only thing. I’m giving you the bike.”

Cass opened her mouth to respond. When no sound came out, Bruce continued his line of thought to the air above his head.

“1955 Vincent Black Shadow. Used to be Alfred’s, then, he came to work for my parents and left it behind in the UK. I had it shipped over piece-by-piece. We’ve done some remodeling since then. You had a birthday, right?”

“Yeah, in January.”

“That’s what? Twenty-one for you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Good. It’s not quite ready yet. When it is, though, you can use it as you please.”

Cass avoided looking at Bruce to turn over the helmet in her hands. He sensed her unease and placed his hands onto hers.

“I talked with Talia a bit. I know you two had a life together before and I know you’re not a kid anymore. I don’t want to intrude on that. You don’t have to stay here the whole time, but you’re more than welcome. You’re my guest, Cassandra, and I’m glad to have you.”

Cass nodded eagerly and handed the helmet back to Bruce. She felt her anxiousness of this meeting slipping away, finally.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Are you sure Alfred doesn’t mind giving up his motorcycle?”

“Positive. He’s well past the point of riding. And it was his idea.”

“It was?”

“Yup,” Bruce said, re-covering the vehicle. “Can you do me a favor, though?”

“Um…yeah?”

“Whatever you do, don’t call it a motorcycle in front of him. It’s a ‘motorbike’ and nothing less. If I get caught in one more lecture on proper English colloquialisms, I’m making you suffer with me.”

“Haha, no worries. I’m not really the chatty type.”

“Ditto.”

 

\---------------------------

 

Bruce left for work some time ago. Initially, that put Cassandra in the living room with Grayson and his gaming console. He offered to teach her how to play, but very little of that actually happened. It was mostly just Cassandra, watching him dexterously control the avatars on-screen. Once every few minutes, it would be Cass laughing into a sofa pillow as Dick yelled at strangers on the Internet.

As entertaining as she could admit it was, there wasn’t anymore she needed to see that day. She poked Grayson and asked if Bruce had anything to read. _In the den_ , was the answer, so she removed herself from the sectional and relocated.

She was still in the den about two hours after that, finishing up a second book. Bruce had an ample collection. That much didn’t surprise her. The diversity was the surprise. In the few Western homes she’d been in, there had been no shortage of dramatized crime novels, terrorist thrillers and romance fluff. Bruce had some of those, but Cass knew by looking they were rarely opened.

Almost hidden between those paperbacks were tomes of every size on human psychology and philosophy. More curious: much of them were from the Far East. As she skimmed further, she found that a good portion of the names were Japanese.

Once she finished _The Harvest of Leisure_ by Yoshida Kenkō, she returned the book to its place on the shelf and reached for the book she’d set aside. Musashi was the only name she recognized from the bunch. Seeing the warrior’s _Book of Five Rings_ in the house of Bruce Wayne made her feel like she was on the right track after all. But was she, though?

Cassandra let the book drop back onto the small end table.

“What am I even doing here?”

An urgent question. The answer? Yet to be supplied. Perhaps, one would think, after reading an entire book on the spiritual benefits of being still and waiting, young Cassandra Wayne might be content to sit in her plush chair and continue reading by herself. By her nature, this is incorrect.

_If getting stronger is what you want, you’re better off asking Richard._

Cass looked back into the living area where Grayson was napping. No doubt he was strong, but she didn’t know him, hadn’t decided if she really liked him or not. From what she could gather, he probably wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. If she was being nudged toward him, Bruce clearly wanted no part of teaching her. If that was the case…did he want anything to do with her at all?

 _sigh!_ “This is dumb.”

Cass was two seconds from asking Grayson his preferred method of punching people, then stopped. Another book caught her eye. Not Japanese, either, and not on the shelf. She plucked the paperback between two fingers. It was a copy of _After the First Death_.

“Huh. That’s odd.” She tossed the small book into the air. _Well, it’s short at least. I could use something light._

Her brow knit in confusion when she caught it. It was light – lighter than a book should be. It felt, almost hollow. She flicked the back cover and found, that’s exactly what it was. She opened it and saw…a button.

Well. What kind of Saturday Morning bullshit is this?

_click!_

Cass didn’t notice the full bookcase moving up and to the side until the final mechanisms snapped into place. She did a double take between the button and the blast door revealed before her and tossed the book aside. She put a hand on the thick, metal surface to balance as she looked over the adjacent panel.

“What is it with Caucasians and these doomsday bunkers?”

**SCANNING**

Not long after the words appeared on the small screen did another compartment open that made Cass jump back as a band of infrared light whirred across her eye.

**DNA SIGNATURE DETECTED**

**ACCESS GRANTED**

**WELCOME TO THE CAVE**

Pleasantries out of the way, the metal door bisected, making way for a lift door that fell open soundlessly. Much deliberation from Cassandra. First, to decide if she should wake Grayson, then to decide if getting into the strange lift to be taken underground was a smart bet.

The answers (shit, no and maybe so) resolved themselves and she stepped into the, frankly, inexplicable box.

 

Alfred Pennyworth was seated at his usual station in the Cave. While the Batman used the main bay for covert communications and research, Alfred managed surveillance and security on the grounds. A detective he was not; but, it was clear that Dick was on the sofa where he’d last seen him. It was the only reason he called his boss when the lift began to move topside.

_“Alfred.”_

“Some news for you, Master Wayne.”

_“Have a visitor?”_

“It’s as you thought, sir. She’s special, this one.”

_“I have a meeting in five. Let me know.”_

“As always, sir.”

_blip!_

Alfred pocketed the phone and swiped his bomber jacket from the chair. Cassandra was a few yards into the Cave when he saw her. She didn’t see _him_ , looking up and around, clearly a bit overwhelmed. Who wouldn’t be?

He cleared his voice, only to get her attention, causing her to jolt back. Alfred lazily put up his hand, reassuring with a smile.

“Worry not, my dear. You aren’t in any trouble.”

She didn’t believe him. Her arms wrapped her torso defensively, a closed off expression on her face. She felt caught. Alfred slowly and deliberately opened up his jacket, even twirled it a few times to show her there were no tricks inside.

“May I?”

Cassandra took a moment, nodded, and let Alfred drape the jacket across her shoulders.

“It’s usually better to have sleeves down here, Miss Cassandra.”

She shrugged further into the jacket but didn’t use the sleeves as Alfred steered her into the Cave’s main chamber.

“I won’t make assumptions as to why you’re here, but this seems as good a place to start as any.”

He looked at Cassandra expectantly, who looked back in confusion. That’s when Alfred noticed they were staring at a wall. He muttered apologies for his forgetfulness and threw a switch, causing the entire section of concrete to spin on an unseen axis. Seconds later, they were face-to-face with the empty maw of Batman’s Cape and Cowl.

Cassandra took a step forward. “It’s…real?”

“Real, indeed. I’m sure Master Wayne will be pleased to know _that_ was your first question.”

“Bruce?”

“On the clock for twenty years now, give or take. About as long as you’ve been on this Earth.”

“And you?”

“Ah, you give me too much credit, miss. The Bat was his own creation. I have the unenviable task of sitting in the big poofy chair.”

“Hmm. What about that?”

Alfred looked in the direction she gestured to. Realization then, as he led her to the lonely glass case. An everlasting reminder of the Clown’s greatest sin.

“Yes, of course,” he said somberly. “Jason Todd. Codename: Robin. Support operative in the field.”

“What happened?”

What little Alfred knew of Cassandra told him she wouldn’t appreciate belaboring the point.

“Kidnapped, tortured and murdered by a man who calls himself the Joker.”

When he tried to speak more on the matter, the words were caught in his throat. Trapped by a mixture of grief and anger. Cassandra reached out through the jacket and took Alfred’s hand. She was frowning but gave him a comforting squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Alfred.”

“I am too, my dear. I’d like a word, if you don’t mind.”

The two ambled back to the computer bay taking one chair each. Cassandra swathed in the larger head chair, Alfred perched in his own. She swiveled slightly, facing the fleet of monitors. Alfred gave her a moment to appraise her new surroundings. Evident enough by the fact that she was here now, Cassandra was a curious spirit. Gaining access to the Cave meant she was indeed Bruce’s relative, but also meant she was looking for something, which was quite telling.

“So,” she started slowly, “what do you guys do down here when you’re not doing this?”

“Just a spot of tinkering. Different toys and gadgets, the occasional motorcar. In fact, I was in the middle of my latest project when you came down.” Alfred reached under the counter and pulled out a ruined Batsuit, fresh from the Invasion. “Courtesy of the Parademon forces. That suit you see up there has been heavily modified from its previous iteration. With more work, even aliens won’t be so formidable.”

“Hm. Talia told me that my father was a great warrior.”

“What else has she told you?”

Cassandra shrugged. “Nothing, really. She said he would tell me himself if he wanted to.” She shook her head, then. “But it doesn’t seem like he wants to.”

“It’s not the sort of thing you talk about lightly, Miss Cassandra. Maybe if you just asked about his training-”

“I _did_ ‘just ask’ about it! He got super defensive and told me to go bother Grayson.”

Alfred couldn’t help but grin slightly. “Did you?”

“Yeah, but- Ugh! That’s not even the point! I’m a stranger to you guys! I don’t even know what he does at his big fancy building and the first thing I see is his butler in their secret underground clubhouse. It’s all just-”

“Breathe, now.”

Cassandra did as she was told, while Alfred ran his hands along her forearms, anchoring her.

“It’s a lot, I know. Your parents have led a life equal parts secretive and fascinating. I can’t guarantee that Bruce will be ready to talk about it, but getting him to talk at all is, in its own way, a victory. Perhaps you should join him tomorrow when he makes his way to town. You can see exactly what happens at the big fancy building.”

He released his hold and Cassandra sent a meaningful look down to her sweatpants and trainers.

“You think they’d appreciate me showing up like this?”

“Given that your father owns the company they work for, I imagine they will find some way to cope. And you won’t be alone. You’ll have your father, and a friend, too. Tim Drake, a young ward of Master Wayne, currently being groomed to take over day-to-day operations of Wayne Enterprises.”

“You’re so sure he’ll want to be my friend.”

“Master Timothy wants to be friends with everyone.”

“Tim sounds like a big dork.”

“He is. You’ll love him.”


	6. The Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Some company could be nice."_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _"Company is always nice."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not ded. Just busted. Washed out. Mad tired. But still writing somehow. Thanks for sticking with me. More to come.

The bike just _goes_.

Correction: the motorbike just goes.

Cassandra isn’t as familiar with English colloquialisms, so she doesn’t know what exactly a ‘spot’ of tinkering comes out to and without asking, she can’t assume how much of the heavy lifting Bruce did (aside from literal heavy lifting). What’s very clear is that Alfred knows his way around machinery.

The ’55 Vincent ran like butter. She’d rode the vehicle to downtown Gotham and back to the Wayne Estate. It was like Bruce bought it new off the lot. Cass wasn’t sure what, if anything, Alfred was paid as a full-time butler-slash-quartermaster. She did know that with how good he was at fixing…everything, a small fortune awaited Alfred in China if he wished.

Cassandra ruffled her hair as she set the helmet down, the garage door closing behind her. Whatever it was Alfred did in that big chair, that seemed to be enough for him.

“I’m back!”

The interior door of the garage opened up to the far portion of the living area, near the dining room. Cassandra dropped the keys onto a nearby shelf and stepped toward the large sofa. No sign of Grayson, either.

She walked to the den, dropping off a bag of supplies and retrieving the _Book of Five Rings_. She was already reading as she sat down at the island in the open kitchen. With Grayson absent, Bruce still at work and Alfred elsewhere, she might end up getting through most of the book.

“I wasn’t aware people your age even knew of Musashi.”

It takes all her training and an incredibly strong grip for the book to not get smashed into the ceiling. Even if she wasn’t paying attention, she should have been able to hear this person approach her. Especially the woman smiling at her now: tall and pony-tailed and…gorgeous.

“Have you studied him long?”

“Um? Hi?”

The woman covered her mouth and giggled shortly. “I'm sorry! You must be terribly confused! My name is Diana Prince.”

“I’m Cassandra,” she answered, shaking her hand.

“So, it _is_ you!” Diana said with wonder in her eye. “I’d hoped I would get to meet you.”

“Don’t get _that_ often. Sure you aren’t waiting for someone else?”

Diana shook her head. “I am visiting, yes, but I would very much like to speak with you. If you don’t mind, that is.”

Cassandra shrugged as her book plopped closed. “Won’t bother me. Some company could be nice.”

“Company is always nice.”

It couldn’t have been a full minute into their first conversation ever, but Cassandra felt completely at ease with this woman. The usual anxious prickling telling her to back away just wasn’t there. She had a suspicion that she wasn’t the only one to feel this way about Diana.

“Where are you from Cassandra?”

“Tough to say where I’m ‘from.’ I moved around a bit. A bed’s a bed, you know? Lived longest in Hong Kong, though, so we’ll say Hong Kong.”

“I spent some time in China, traveling. It is such a lovely country.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Many, many years now. And I must admit that I only spent a short time in the cities.”

“You mean you got to see the Old Country, then? You’re lucky. The city would be unrecognizable to you.”

“Have they built up that quickly?”

“They never stopped building up. It’s cool you got to travel through the countryside.”

“You mean you couldn’t?”

“Not really. My studies never let me travel too far outside the city. And when they did, I had to leave China straight up. Hong Kong is fine. I like it there. I’d just like to explore the places my people settled before it all gets paved over.” Cassandra paused awkwardly. “That’s a bit of a reach. China’s really big, that wouldn’t happen.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Cassandra,” Diana said, brighter, if that was possible. “I know what you mean. I am a curator and I’m very sensitive about preservation.”

“You work in a museum?”

Diana gave a sly smile with a tilt of her head. She was excited to share this info. “I work in _the_ museum.”

She tapped across her smartphone, then handed it over to Cassandra. The screen was occupied by a large glass pyramid overlooking a standing pool of water. The clues fell in place.

“Oh, the Louvre. Yeah, that’s big time. You must be pretty good.”

Diana hummed as she grabbed her phone. “We are all good at something. What are you good at, Cassandra?”

If there wasn’t discomfort before, it managed to find her anyway. There was no easy way to talk about herself or what she did, which is why Cass so often didn’t. Blowing off the poor chump who asked _was_ simple to do. But doing that to Diana wouldn’t feel right.

The truth, then.

“Dunno. I was there. Now I’m here. There’s not much more to say about me.”

“I doubt that, Miss Cassandra. Coming into this world under your circumstances is worth a fair bit on its own.”

Diana turned on her stool and smiled to see Alfred, then stepped up into his waiting hug.

“Always good to see you, Diana.”

“Always, friend.”

“Al’s not wrong, you know.”

Cassandra started as a ceramic bowl smacked down onto the table top beside her.

“Grayson, where did you even come from?”

Dick piled a handful of grapes into his mouth, answering with an elliptical waving of his hands. Cassandra stared blankly before punching the meat of his arm.

“Be nice, Cass.”

Bruce walked up beside Diana. From the expression he wore, it was clear he was only offering a suggestion.

“I am.”

Dick snorted while chewing his food. “If that’s ni- _ow_! Bruce!”

“You earned that one. Alfred. Two up, please.”

“Straight away, sir.”

The bowl of fruit was moved closer to her. Cass mumbled her thanks and popped a strawberry into her mouth.

“You’re home early,” she said after some chewing.

“Early day,” he handed off his neck tie to Alfred. “I had pick up Diana.”

Naturally. Cassandra totally forgot to ask her before they started talking about old, dusty things. She quietly hoped Bruce would be sporting about her next question.

“How do you know _her_?”

Dick perked up slightly at the subject change, and she thought she heard something like a snort come from Alfred’s direction. Diana smirked as she turned to her right.

“Yes, Bruce. How indeed?”

Bruce paused as Alfred set down two hot mugs of tea. He blew steam off the top, took a sip, then said: “Co-workers?”

“We _were_ co-workers.”

He shrugged. “Guess we’re dating then.”

Diana made a sound into the rim of her cup. “Another upgrade! Would you like to make it, how do they say, Online Official?”

Such a curious interaction between these two. Bruce hadn’t been cold to Cassandra at all, but he certainly didn’t give off the same energy he was now. Diana was playfully poking at his arm, almost childlike. Even from behind his mug, it was clear that Bruce was trying not to smile.

When he lowered the mug, his deadpan didn’t waver: “Absolutely not, Princess.”

Cassandra saw Grayson’s eyes go wide at that last word. He was soon thinking of the best way to broach the scene before him. It’s Grayson, though, so he didn’t think about it too long.

“B, don’t take this the wrong way…”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Bit late for that.”

Cassandra agreed. “Yeah, rude!”

“What…no, hush. That’s not what I meant. I think it’s cool you decided to give monogamy one more go.”

“I assure you, Master Grayson, it was _not_ for lack of trying.”

“Hm. You sound like Barbara.”

“Babs is a genius. Good news for me if I sound like her.”

“Then, you must be Richard!”

Dick put his hands up in mock surrender. “Got me.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, finally. I have heard many things.”

“Terrifying news,” he quipped. “Disclaimer here: the Big Guy’s brains are matched only by his exaggeration.”

“I assure you, Richard, there is nothing to fear. Bruce and Alfred are both very happy to see you again.”

Dick seemed surprised to hear these words from Diana, who he’d just meet seconds ago. Almost like Cassandra wasn’t the only one missing lots of context. Alfred crossed from the opposite side of the room, just so he could embrace Dick from behind. He gave him a pat on the chest and was again back to the dishwasher. Dick was speechless for once and bowed his head in thanks.

“Does this mean I’m not in trouble?” Bruce asked.

Diana’s smile evaporated. “I did not say that.”

Bruce frowned. “Figured you wouldn’t.” He swiveled slowly to address his two younger guests. “Sorry, she and I have to discuss business stuff.”

“Oh! Go right ahead,” Dick chirped. “I don’t mind at _all_.”

“You, I’m used to. I was talking to Cass.” A beat. “I’ll be right with you, alright?”

Cassandra only had a general understanding of what ‘work-related’ meant to Bruce Wayne. It was only, what, Day Three? The significance of this conversation was lost on her. Grayson wasn’t moving though, and she hadn’t been asked to leave, so she saw no reason to.

“I understand.”

Bruce nodded, more to himself, and Diana placed a hand on his forearm.

“We need to talk, Bruce. About what happened.”

“We do. How’s Barry?”

“He will improve with time. For now, he is in sorrow. Even Jessica cannot reach him.”

“It’s better this way.”

“How could you possibly say that?”

“Barry’s a smart kid. He knows I have my reasons. He doesn’t always agree with them, but he knows I just have to… _go_ sometimes. If Clark had gone through with his verdict, it would have splintered the team. That can’t be afforded. Not right now.”

“It may be too late. We spent an entire day deliberating while you were here, doing whatever. As usual, you haven’t made things easy.”

“This job is never easy.”

“But can’t it be? That is why you and I founded the team, is it not? So that things would be easier?”

“That was before Lois got involved.”

“Lois knew better than all of us the dangers she faced. She would not take it back just because-”

“He hurt my friend, Diana. He’s to punish me, because he knows he can’t… Shit!”

_slam!_

Both mugs clattered as Bruce pounded his fist down. Alfred grabbed both without a word and Dick, who was listening intently like Cassandra, had a displeased look on his face as he left the island. Cass looked forward and frowned, seeing Bruce, not looking at her but through her. He was in his own head space and was not happy about it. Diana held brief eye contact with her, then grabbed his face softly and made Bruce turn to look her in the eye.

“I don’t understand, Bruce. You have so much to your name. Your friends love you. Your children love you. I love you. Why are you still so angry?”

Bruce’s expression withered. Diana drew closer to him and he leaned into her without protest.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t like being this way. I want to be there for you.”

“I know. But it’s not just me you have to be present for now.”

Cassandra felt both of them staring at her and averted eye contact. She was unaffected, if not a bit curious, by most of the conversation. Suddenly, she felt like the sofa might not have been a bad idea.

Diana slid off her chair to press a kiss to Bruce’s temple. Her next words were obscured, but Cassandra thought she heard traces of, “help you heal.”

“You _have_ helped me,” Bruce said. “Without you I wouldn’t be here.”

“You made the choice. Remember that. I stayed because I wanted to. I wanted you. I still want to help you. Just not like this.”

“You’re going back home.”

“I have to. My family is waiting and there is still much to do. I wish you could join me. Artemis misses you.”

“I miss her, too, but I-”

“Have your work.” Diana moved away from Bruce’s seat to fix her jacket. “Like always, yes?”

“Not always,” he said tentatively. “Just now.”

“Then I will not stand in your way. When you have done what you set out to do, find me.”

“I will.” Bruce stood. “Walk you to your car?”

“You may.”

Diana gave Bruce her arm, and the couple walked briskly to the front door as the other three occupants watched. Grayson rejoined Cassandra in the kitchen area and waved for Alfred’s attention.

“Alright, Al, cough it up. What was _that_ all about?”

Cassandra looked to Alfred, as well, imploring him without words to answer the question.

“If I remember correctly, Young Richard, I messaged you with details about Master Wayne’s recent developments.”

“Uh-uh! You told me he was dating someone and that it was serious. You failed to mention it was this ‘Shinzou wo sasageyo’ stuff. I’ve never seen him this way.”

Alfred gave his best snooty scoff as he turned back to the dirty dishes. “A bit difficult to convey that in one-hundred-forty characters, isn’t it?”

Dick waved that comment off and turned perpendicular in his seat. “You saw it too, right?”

Cass nodded.

“It’s wild. Almost like, for a second or two, he wasn’t a total-”

“What’s wrong with him?”

Dick fumbled on his words and looked at Cassandra awkwardly, unsure of how to answer her sudden question. Then, he seemed to remember Bruce’s little outburst and his own reaction. “Heh, ‘what’s wrong,’ she says. You want that list alphabetical or chronological?”

He was trying to deflect attention away from what was an uncomfortable topic for him. Cassandra didn’t care about feelings and would have none of it.

“He’s been like this since Jason, hasn’t he?”

The reaction from Grayson was wordless; somewhere between a surprised croak and angered huff. He looked ready to leap from his chair. His temperament cooled considerably when he looked past her right shoulder. Whatever look Alfred gave him, it didn’t leave room for argument.

“Yeah, Cassie, he has. Me and Babs…we tried everything we could to help, but it’s not something he’s gonna budge on. Dude’s been in Gotham too long.” Dick took an apple from the bowl and guided Cassandra’s hands around it. “Maybe he’ll open up to you, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

She was watching his back recede from her as he walked back to the living room. He was done with that topic for now; she got a relevant answer, though, so Cass didn’t pursue it further. And now Bruce was back inside – shoeless now, oddly – sitting down across from Cassandra with a tablet in hand. If what he told her earlier that day was true, he was managing assets now with spreadsheets and graphs. She had no doubt this was also part of his job. The part she doubted was that this was the job he and Diana were discussing.

“Is Diana a widow?”

Cassandra wasn’t aware she asked the question until Bruce looked up from his screen. His expression wasn’t accusatory, exactly. Closer to inquisitive.

“You could say that. What did you see?”

“The wedding band. It wasn’t on her ring finger. I know that doesn’t always mean anything…”

Bruce let her drop her sentence without interruption. He was considering something. Maybe how much he should share. Or _if_ he should share.

“No, you’re right, Cass. That’s usually what it means. Diana wears hers for a different reason but, she did lose someone. Long time ago.”

Alfred approached the island and placed a hand on either of Cassandra’s shoulders. “Right then, dishes are done. Will you be needing anything else, Master Wayne?”

“I’m fine Alfred. Get some rest.”

“I believe I will. Is there anything I can get you, dear?”

Cassandra looked up to Alfred and shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“Very well.” Alfred lowered his head to peck a kiss onto the crown of her head. “Have a good night, Miss Cassandra.”

Alfred bid farewell to Grayson as he stepped out the door. Cassandra hadn’t expected the display of affection, frankly, because it wasn’t often that she got them. In order to find a moment where someone held her, platonically or otherwise, she had to go back a long way. In the present now, she closed her eyes and focused on the warm energy rising through her. When was the last time someone touched her in a friendly way?

“Now you’ve done it.”

Cassandra snapped her eyes open to see Bruce looking down at his tablet, nonetheless with a smirk on his face. She frowned, confused.

“What did I do?”

“You kidding?” Grayson called as he turned on his PlayStation. “Alfred’s yours forever now. He’ll never listen to us again. Bruce is gonna have to make his fish and chips all by himself and it’s all your fault.”

“Tch. No one asked you, Grayson!”

Bruce chuckled softly as he set his tablet down. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through a menu, then motioned Cassandra to sit down beside him. He passed her the phone, which displayed a picture of Bruce and Diana in front of a large, and likely ancient, castle.

“Took that in Versailles. Most fun I’ve had in ages.”

“You get to have fun?”

“Sometimes. Diana helps with that. She’s a very special person. And my best friend.”

Cass studied the picture again. They really did make a nice pair. And Bruce took a good selfie for someone who never smiled. An idea, then. Cass backed out of the camera roll and found the phone’s camera. She tapped the screen to turn the display around so that she and Bruce were in the viewfinder.

“We’ll laugh about this one day.”

Cassandra quickly snapped the photo before Bruce could object and tapped back to the camera roll so he could see. He looked at it for a bit and, maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she may have seen one-fourth of a smile. Maybe.

“Think I’ll keep this one.”

Bruce pocketed his phone and picked up his tablet. “Got work tomorrow, so I’m gonna call it. You’re free to stay up and torture Dick until he’s done over there-”

“Thanks, B!”

“Or you can go to your room if you need some time to yourself. Up to you.”

“Sure. Uh, thanks for letting me stay here, Bruce.”

“Not a problem. Goodnight you two.”

 

\-----------------------------

 

It was in the wee hours and Bruce lie still in his bed until he heard the opening and closing of a bedroom door. He reached for his phone and scrolled to an earlier conversation with Diana.

**She’s yours, Bruce. I can see it in her eyes.**

**What else did you see?**

**Loneliness and confusion. She seeks guidance.**

Damn, _that_ sounded familiar. Bruce had to wonder if it was in his genes. Was his father the same way? Solomon Wayne even? Were their more private moments plagued by the same darkness?

He left his room and saw Dick draped messily across the couch. It was predictable but comforting. Bruce hadn’t hoped he’d ever get a chance to make things right with his first student. He was more than a student, though. He was in equal measure his son. A son now leading a team of his own. He didn’t know yet the words to tell Dick how proud that made him, and he hoped he’d figure it out.

Bruce walked out onto the balcony overlooking the misty lake. It was a rare clear night in Gotham and he could see the Milky Way fully. He found the right constellation and tracked the stars to where he knew the Watchtower would be in orbit.

Bruce eyed the watch on his left wrist and leaned his head down over the railing. Lest he forget the whole reason she gave him the watch was to remind him of his duty. What she didn’t understand, though – what none of them seemed to understand – was that he was duty-bound to Gotham first. Long before Superman decided to make up his mind about how to use his powers and when, he had been protecting this city.

It wasn’t like they’d ever made an effort to fight crime there, either. The Hall of Justice was in Metropolis and that was enough for them, but if Batman didn’t keep watch over Gotham, no one would. That much was _very_ clear.

He looked at the watch again to check the time and went inside, making for the Cave. As the lift doors opened up, he heard repeated, muffled pounding. The tell-tale sign of strikes on a _mudjong_. He walked past Alfred’s work bench towards the sparring ring and saw her. Cassandra was in Jason’s suit, hitting the wooden dummy as many times as she could, as hard as she could. She was good, but her form for the exercise was sloppy. It was fine, though. There’d be time enough to steer her from that.

“You made some changes.”

Cass hit the dummy once more and stopped entirely. She turned to Bruce and removed the hood from her head. The mask fit better than he thought it would.

“Yeah. I noticed it rains a lot in Gotham.” She paused a beat and looked down to her legs, clad in dark green pants. “And I’m not all that crazy about shorts.”

“How’s the suit, otherwise?”

“It’s fine.” Cass brought her arms up to chest level. “Could use longer sleeves, though.”

“I’ll see what Alfred can do.”

“Alfred?”

“He told me about your first visit down here. I’m not mad, I just… I wish you hadn’t.”

Cass squinted at Bruce. A wordless question.

“The last one to come down here under my watch was Jason and he-”

“Alfred told me about Jason.”

“Then you know.” Bruce walked the rest of the way to the sparring area and put his hand on her shoulder. “I want to give you a chance at a normal life. A chance he didn’t get.”

Cass frowned then and shrugged his hand off her shoulder. She crossed her arms and looked up at him. The visage was more familiar than he wanted to realize.

“Bruce, I was raised from birth in a den of assassins. Any chance I had of a normal life is done.”

“Not if you don’t want it to be.”

She pulled an object from her belt that Bruce recognized right away as a shuriken. She threw it across the way and hit a very small target – the metal ring attached to the chain that held up his heavy bag. It fell to the ground with a thud and Cass turned back to him expectantly.

“Who says I _don’t_ want it to be?”

Alright then.

“What are you looking for, Cass?”

“A year ago, I completed Ra’s al Ghul’s personal training in the Art of Ninjutsu. My mother said the only other person to do it was in Gotham and she took me to meet him.”

“And what are you hoping to do with this knowledge?”

“Not too sure, but I know _you’re_ about to do something crazy.”

“You think?”

“Yes, going into Arkham City alone in the dead of night is crazy. Even for The Batman.”

“I won’t be alone.”

“I’ll admit Alfred is boss, okay, but even you and Grayson together aren’t enough for a job this big.”

“I’ll have backup from The Oracle, too. What are you getting at?”

Bruce knew damn well what she was getting at, but he had to hear it from her directly. He was giving her every chance to back out; he should have known better.

“What I’m getting at, Old Man, is that I’m the new Robin and you’ve gotta deal with that.”

Bruce sighed. Maybe Alfred wouldn’t have been so eager to see the next generation of Waynes if he knew they would be fated to fight crime.

“Robin is more than just a suit and mask. It’s an identity in the crusade against crime, held by two people before you. They earned that name, just like you will. If you’re up for it.”

Cass opened her mouth to say something, as if she had been expecting resistance. Perhaps he had, too, but he simply stood there, arms crossed, waiting for her decision.

“R-really?”

“Yes.”

“Dude, yes! Oh my- When do we start?”

“Tomorrow. You’ll want to get some rest.”

“Sure, what’s first?”

“Forensics.” Cass seemed genuinely surprised at that as Bruce explained, “Ra’s and his clan taught you all you need to know about fighting. Now, I’m going to teach you about investigating.”

“That’s fine, I guess. I won’t have to call you sensei, will I?”

“You will, actually.”

…

“That was a joke, Cass.”

“You need to get better at that.”

“That’s what I’m told.”


	7. The Games We Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin is reborn as Gotham prepares for war.

Almost like she never left the compound, in a way. Bruce agreed to train her, yes, but she had her own work she had to do. That included reading: hours of reading. It meant completing the _Book of Five Rings_ , as well as every other piece of Far East philosophy in his collection.

Following that was a crash course in Criminal Psychology. Regarded as such because of the legal pad Bruce marked with the titles of books she was to grab and the corresponding pages she was to read. They hadn’t gone to the Cave at all that day. Cassandra stayed in the den, where it was quiet and cool, only emerging for bathroom breaks and Alfred’s meals.

Grayson would occasionally sit with her, letting her read, but answering any questions she had about the logistics of crime fighting.

“Nature calls sometimes,” Dick said as he scrolled his phone. “I get it, but you should really handle your business before you suit up. Getting caught out of position in the field is not fun times.”

“I don’t plan to but, thanks for the tip anyway, I guess.”

“No sweat, Little Bird.”

“Hm? What’s that mean?”

“Nothing,” he said, now distracted. “It’s a nickname. Kinda like a screen tag? Or a Twitter handle? Everybody has one. Go with it.”

Cassandra looked up from her book and met Grayson’s expectant expression with one of pure ambivalence. He stared back a few seconds more before his face into one of faux dismay.

“You don’t have Twitter?”

“I…don’t have a phone, Dick.”

“And we should do something about that! Both your lack of phone and the Twittah Machine. I can make you a profile right now! You don’t even need a phone!”

“Hold fast, Richard.”

“Oh. Hi, Alfred.”

“Hello, Miss.”

“Has Bruce infected you, Al? I didn’t expect you to be a wet blanket on this issue.”

“I’m hardly that. I think finding a cell phone for Cassandra is a good idea, so long as she approves, to help us keep in touch. I’m simply passing warning of the pitfalls of social media.” Alfred leaned against the chair Cassandra was sitting in. “While it can be, frankly, a miraculous hub of prompt information and human interconnectivity, it can too often devolve into screaming matches, naked displays of narcissism and journals of self-loathing.”

Cassandra set down her book and grabbed the front edge of the chair’s cushion. She had a thoughtful frown on her face when she said, “People online sound sad.”

“No wonder,” Grayson said, “they only post sad shit. Even pizza turns out lame if you make it wrong.”

Cassandra chewed her lip awkwardly. She didn’t exactly follow his analogy and Grayson rolled his eyes at himself.

“Why can’t I be as good with words as you?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” Alfred said.

“Okay,” Dick said, “try that again. All I meant was you get back the energy you put out. Just like anywhere else. I still get blowback, sure. Salty people who call me fake cause I post selfies from the Pacific Ocean instead of whatever awful thing just happened. But see, I know what it’s like to be sunken down in that place. And after being up and out? There’s just no way I’d walk myself back there. This job is hard enough.”

…

“You guys…don’t care about any of that, though. What were you saying, Alfred?”

“Initially, I came to inform you that tea was on. Help yourself. Once you’re done, I’m certain Master Wayne will be waiting below to get things started.”

Alfred left the room and Grayson popped to his feet right after. “Ooh, excitement! This is where things pick up for you, Little Bird.”

He left before Cassandra could say anything. She let him leave, but she really _did_ want to say something. Like that little speech that came from nowhere and what the hell ‘that place’ meant or what it was supposed to be. Did something happen to Grayson, too? She still knew next to nothing about anyone here. It was something she would need to address. She picked up the book from the end table and joined the other two in the kitchen. Questions would wait for another day.

 

\---------------------------

 

The next day, they did make it to the Cave. All of them including Grayson, who was dancing his way through their workspace. More accurately, _around_ their workspace. She had a thought to ask Bruce how often he did this; his efficiency in ignoring Grayson, who was now singing with the song pumping through the sound system, spoke well enough for him.

“He does that,” Bruce said typing. “Focus. I need a profile on this perp.”

“You have profiles on all these guys. Shouldn’t you know it by heart?”

“I do. You don’t. We’re here to change that. Read the report.”

“Okay. This is from five years ago. Three victims. Two male, one female. In between mid-twenties and late-thirties in age. Large portions of the dermis were stripped from their bodies. Facial features, fingertips. Injuries post-mortem.”

“What’s the M.O.?”

“Nothing good. Whoever did this, they’re a Sadist. And the way the bodies were strung up suggests a God Complex. But then why the ritual of taking their skin? Nothing else was stolen. Unless…”

“Unless?”

“It wasn’t just murder, but also theft. A literal identity thief! Right?”

“Right.”

“But that doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it doesn’t. You can’t-”

Bruce was interrupted by Grayson – repeatedly – dancing into him. After three bumps more, a very restrained Bruce not-so-gently nudged him away with his foot, keeping him away with a heavyweight glare.

“Computer, lower volume by twenty percent. Could you avoid distracting my student for at least five more minutes?”

“I’ll make it ten just for you, Batman! Computer, next song!”

Grayson shuffled closer to the main console as an upbeat dancehall track replaced the slower breakbeat of the previous song. Bruce stared a moment longer, to be sure the boy would keep his promise, then spoke again to Cassandra.

“You can’t trust the criminally insane to make sense. That’s what makes these people different from the punks you’ve dealt with before.”

“I guess I just, hm. What’s the endgame here? What did he want?”

“To destroy Bruce Wayne.”

“You?”

“Yeah. He went by the name Hush. A brilliant surgeon. He mutilated those people to recreate my face, then committed a string of murders in my name to frame me and soil my company’s name.”

“What happened to him?”

“Captured and sent to Blackgate. Far away from here. When I get my hands on Joker, the same’s gonna happen to him. No more Arkham. No more games.”

The song continued in the background and Grayson kept on dancing, much more compact to match the lowered volume of the music. Cassandra craned her ear to listen and a certain lyric had her twist her mouth in confusion.

“What does ‘controlla’ mean?”

Bruce, who wasn’t expecting such a question, quirked an eyebrow, then rolled his eyes as he heard the song, too. “You’re asking the wrong guy. My guess would be ‘nothing.’ But it’s easy to dance to.” _sigh!_ “So, he does.”

The shake of the head that followed was one of a man that was wistful rather than annoyed. He was glad to see Richard again, and that feeling overpowered the usual stoic persona. Grayson danced further into his own little world. Still enjoying himself even in a damp, underground cave. Cass chuckled at that.

“I can fight him soon, right?”

“Soon. Notes first. Read me the next case.”

“Hai.”

Then, a metal door slid open from the far side.

“Ah, someone’s put my records on. Master Grayson must be down here.”

 

Cassie going half-speed was impressive by itself. Here in the Cave now, with his master watching no less, she was going all-out. Overwhelming was a word. Dick was only tagged once, quickly deciding that he’d rather not be tagged again. No surprise for someone sired by Bruce Wayne: Cassie was strong.

It was fun, though. Dick didn’t get the same combat high Bruce did, but he was remarkably physical. He loved jumping, rolling, _moving_. His agility was keeping him ahead of the game so to speak. Count his lucky stars that Sensei agreed to keep the music going. Nothing moved him better than a good beat.

“Fight me, Grayson!”

Dick smiled as he deflected two of her strikes, then countered with a light knee thrust to gain separation.

“Not sure you wanna sniff this just yet, Little Bird.”

“A load of rubbish that is!” Alfred was spectating next to Bruce. “You’re doing great, sweetie!”

Cass spoke to Dick again with a much more aggressive tone: “This is pointless!”

Dick pulled a double-take. “Not even!”

“Isn’t it? You’re spending more time dancing than fighting. We’re supposed to be training, and we can’t do that if you don’t take this seriously!”

Dick’s heard that rant before, and it made him frown for the first time that day.

“I don’t know what Captain Canker Sore put in your head, but there’s more to this job than punching stuff. We all attack the beast in different ways. You can be as punchy as you want but don’t -”

Before he could react, Cass was on him, driving a forearm into his solar plexus. Even managing to block the follow-up attack lead to a blistering punch-kick combo that sent him sprawling backwards.

As Al would say: serious, then.

Dick rolled away from her next strike: two fists overhead. He was counting on an over-extension and got it. A handspring took him past her advance, so he could counter with a kick to the small of her back. She rounded on him with a shout; Dick caught her fists in either hand, sweeping her legs from underneath her. Cass was stuck. Strong as she was, he still had the larger frame.

“That’s game.”

“Is it?”

Cass twisted her hips and contorted her body almost in half. Completely unprotected, Grayson’s head was caught in the vice of her legs, his arm hyperextended as he was flipped over. He quickly tapped against her leg and was let go, feeling light-headed as he sat up too fast. He registered Alfred saying, “Good show,” but Dick wasn’t exactly sure he could say what the show was. So _fast_.

“Richard. I never declared the session over.”

It was like being ten-years-old again. Hundreds of times getting his ass kicked by the World’s Greatest Detective. Training endlessly for a full year before he was even allowed to leave the Cave. Bruce had his brow furrowed deep, like always, barely masking his disappointment. Cass was impassive. Silent, with her arms crossed.

Dick swiped the hair from his eyes. “Hai.”

“You must protect yourself at all times. Even if it’s me. Or her.”

“Hai.”

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. Won’t happen again.”

A hand came into his view. He took it without seeing who it belonged to and was eye-to-eye with Cassandra.

“Good stuff, Cassie. Hey, if a challenge is what you want, you should try Bruce.”

Cass looked past Dick to where Bruce was standing and nodded. “That’s a good idea, I think.”

Bruce did _not_ think it was a good idea; his glare directed at the younger man told the story. Dick paid it no mind and left Cassie’s side while sending a cute wave back at Bruce, who sighed quietly as he dropped down to a seated position.

“Computer: end song.”

One-by-one, he removed his shoes, handing them over to Alfred. Removing his shirt as he stood, he handed that over as well and made his way down to the sparring area. Dick took his place next to Alfred to relieve him of the clothing items.

“Maybe it’s the work clothes, but I didn’t think he was still this built.”

“Well,” Alfred said, “he is Batman.”

“He is that.”

Bruce approached the circular mat slowly. While Cass adjusted the tape on her hands, he bowed low before breaking the threshold. Afterword, he bowed again, this time to Cass, who mirrored his action.

“Was that Wing Chun I saw?” She nodded, which led him to drop into a standard JKD stance. He waited for her to engage him and said, “On your mark.”

They stayed that way, silent, forearms clashed, for the better part of a minute. Knowing they had the same teacher, Dick wondered if the whole fight was playing out in their heads somehow. Some time passed, and the first to move was Bruce – dropping to a knee after getting tagged by Cass. She stood over Bruce with her hand extended.

“Been awhile?”

Bruce shot a look up at her. He took his time getting to his feet, pointedly refusing the hand up. Cass looked at him, then to her hand and back. “Again,” was his answer and both resumed their previous position. “Think carefully about your next move.”

The wait for action was shorter this time, punctuated by Bruce sweeping Cassie’s leg away. In the second it took for her to find her base, she was sent sprawling back. Bruce gazed down at her with his arms crossed. He didn’t offer his hand.

“First rule of fighting…”

“Winner makes the rules,” Cass completed the statement. She popped up and began fixing her hair into a tight ponytail, facing away from Bruce.

“Second rule,” he said with a growl. “Never turn your back o-”

The end of his sentence was interrupted by the buzz of a kick near his head. Cass was trying to rush him down. Bruce wasn’t being overwhelmed, but he wasn’t having fun, either. In one pivot, he managed to squeeze through her strikes and push off with his huge torso to get his breathing room back. Cass was undeterred and ran forward. Bruce squared himself, dropped his center of gravity and fell back, using her own momentum to take her overhead. They weren’t as quick to their feet this time: Bruce being older, Cass having the wind knocked out of her.

“Thinking,” Bruce said, “just not careful.”

Bruce spun to his feet, narrowly blocking Cassie’s running knee. A moment after that, Bruce exclaimed in pain. Cass had ducked behind him unseen to target his bad knee. She followed up with a flurry of punches and a roundhouse kick to his side. Bruce regrouped on the opposite side of the mat with his left side turned away, perched on the balls of his feet.

“I’ve got you!”

Before Cass could ‘get’ him, he rolled away to the center of the ring – a full somersault that threw her completely off-guard. She composed herself and ran forward to meet him, only to be meet by a rising knee to her sternum. There was little force behind it. Just enough to send her to the ground. Cass nipped up, ready to charge before she stopped herself. She'd only help Bruce by attacking head-on. She started that way, then juked to the side to flank him. Bruce preempted this move by hopping back and throwing a spinning heel kick.

“You can’t escape!” is what she said as she rebounded from the floor.

Bruce didn’t try to and stood there as Cass went flying through the air. She was caught by Bruce – tremendous strength shown for a guy on one leg – driven to the mat and pinned there. Bruce held position with his fist raised, only for a moment, before backing away, returning to a seated pose. Cass stayed back on her haunches, limbs still buzzing for a fight. It wasn’t until Bruce called out, “ _Yame_!” that she joined him in sitting down.

“No doubt that you’re Ra’s al Ghul’s best student.”

Cass nodded. “Thank you.”

Bruce snapped his fingers, waited for Alfred to hand him a water. He took a long drink from the thermos, then continued his thought. “Your offense is good. Like I expected. Your defense, though…”

Dick flinched almost at the same time Cassie did. Bruce’s tone almost made him forget he wasn’t talking to him.

“Your defense would probably be good, too,” Bruce went on, “if you ever used it.”

“You were back on your heels. I had to get the advantage.”

“Cassandra, you _had_ the advantage! All you had to do was wait.” Another swig of water. “You step foot in Arkham, you’ve got a horde of grunts trying to kill you. All night. No end. They aren’t as skilled as me or Dick, but they’re all our size or bigger.”

“I’ve been fighting from underneath my whole life! I’m not scared of-”

“And that’s _before_ we get to the madmen camping out there! Cobblepot, Nigma, Joker. They aren’t just targets waiting to be caught. They’re nefarious plotters who have been lying in wait for months.”

“Which is exactly why you need all the help you can get!” Cass stood as she grew more animated. “I can help you fight these creeps, Bruce. I’m ready for this!”

“No, you’re not.”

Her shoulders slumped hearing that. “What?”

“I know you can fight. Anyone with eyes can see that, but the last thing I need for this op is someone who only wants to fight. Arkham City is a massive encampment filled with heavily-armed criminal masterminds. It’s going to take more than just fists to put a stop to it. Until you get in the right mindset, I can’t take you with me. Which is why you’re going with Dick.”

Bruce got up and left without any further explanation. He grabbed his clothes from Dick, who looked just as confused as the young woman staring at him. He asked without words for her to wait there while he went to ask his teacher some very urgent questions. Namely…

“What’s the deal, B?”

“No deal. I want you to teach her.”

“Gosh. Do you hear yourself speaking these words? What is it that I have to show her?”

“You’ve been doing this over ten years, now. There’s a lot you can show her she wouldn’t have learned from Ra’s.”

“Like what she could learn from _you?_ Look, thank you much for the surprising bode of confidence.”

“Surprising?”

“I just think that Batman’s kid would be best served learning from, I dunno, The _Batman_.”

“The situation is complicated.”

“No more than when you trained me. I wasn’t even legal!”

“That was different.”

“How so? Because I’m not really your kid?”

“Richard…”

“Nah, don’t ‘Richard’ me. I get it. Wanna hog all the glory for yourself as usual. ‘I’m the Batman! I work alone!’ Spare me, please.”

Bruce betrayed no emotion as he quirked his head to one side. Dick looked back to the mat where Cassie was. She hadn’t left; more than that, she was seated now facing away. He didn’t like the look of it.

“There’s a reason I’m asking this of you. I don’t do it lightly. You’re good at this job. You’ve trained your own team. More important than that: I trust you to do this right. More than I trust Talia or her father. Or myself.”

“What do want me to do?”

“Suit up, hit the rooftops. Show her how to use the lines. Glider time if you can manage.”

“Okay, a lesson plan is good but…what do you want me to _do_ , Bruce?”

“…There’s still too much distance between us. I don’t know what she wants, and I don’t know how she feels about me. But I know she likes you.” Bruce allowed a small grin. “You make everyone like you.” Bruce ruffled Dick’s hair for good measure. Before leaving for the lift to higher ground he said, “She needs a friend right now. So, take care of her. Just like you would for Jason.”

Dick didn’t wait to see Bruce leave. He gestured to Alfred and caught the water bottle thrown to him. Even if it didn’t improve her mood, the worst thing to be after a fight was dehydrated. Cass mumbled her thanks as Dick sat down next to her.

“You okay, Little Bird?”

She nodded.

“That was great! I’ve only seen Jeet Kune Do in the movies. Wasn’t even sure it was practical.”

“It can be. Didn’t do much good today. I lost.”

“You lost to Bruce, though. Scratch that. You lost to Batman. He hasn’t lost ever, and you managed to tag him pretty good. More than I can say. I never put a scratch on him.”

Cass shrugged in response and took a drink of water. Dick stretched out his lower limbs from their crossed position. The indication was that he was situated and ready to listen. She received the message.

“Should I change the way I fight?”

“Eh, I don’t think one loss is enough to warrant-”

“You heard him, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I got the ‘You’re not ready’ speech, too, ya know?”

“But he said I wasn’t in the right mindset. Sounded like Talia.”

“And what did your mom say?”

“When we got to Hong Kong, I saw my first movie. My first _anything_ , really.”

“Which was…”

“Enter the Dragon.”

“Ahhh, suddenly it all makes sense.”

“I’d never seen anything like it!” she said with fresh excitement.  “I started shadowing the moves I saw on screen. But Mom scolded me for getting swept up in Hollywood nonsense.”

“Well,” Dick hummed, “you obviously didn’t stop.”

“No. I found an old master in the city who was willing to show me what he knew.”

“Alright. Stop me at any point if I’m wrong. You’ve found this style that compliments you really well, but you feel hamstrung by the style you’ve spent your whole life perfecting?”

Cass blinked. “Um, yeah. That’s it. I was always told I should take pride in my heritage. This is the best way for me to do that, I think. But I can’t really turn my back on the old ways, can I?”

“Not at all,” Dick said, like it was obvious. Cass frowned at him in thought, then he kept speaking. “Cassie, do you think that Bruce Wayne, heir to a philanthropist empire and unrepentant rich boy grew into the freak of nature he is today by only using one style? I swear I’ve lost count of how many different ways I’ve seen him kick somebody’s ass.” Dick got to his feet and gave Cass a hand up. “The Big Guy wasn’t talking about your fighting, anyway. Our gig is a weird one, with certain complexities you don’t get in…whatever you do usually.” A beat. “I’m not sure I know what you do.”

“I’m not sure I told you. Let’s suit up.”

Cass moved in the opposite direction toward the glass case housing the restored and modified Robin suit, once worn by Jason Todd. Bruce didn’t have a problem with the suit being repurposed; Dick shouldn’t have had a problem, either. Not that he had a problem with Cass. He just…didn’t know.

“Everything will be fine, Master Grayson. You’ll both do a smashing job.”

“Hope you’re right, Al.”

 

\---------------------------

 

Cassandra brushed the loose gravel away from her pants as she walked to the building’s precipice. The Gotham City skyline trickled out into the horizon. After a long look, she lowered her cape’s hood to her shoulders. Cassandra’s first night as Robin wouldn’t see much action. It would be spent scouting the city and getting familiar with the tools she would use on the mission with Batman. A short, metallic sound came from her feet, followed by a rapid, mechanical whir. Nightwing was shooting through the air, landing in a squat near the rooftop’s center.

“Tch. Showoff.”

Nightwing looked up to his partner, feigning a gloomy look more suited for the Bat. Soon enough, the frown was replaced by a flash of teeth. “Showing off is part of the fun. Think fast!”

Even with a warning, Robin nearly dropped the gadget that was tossed her way. She felt her way across the handle, silent in thought. Nightwing had an expectant look on his face.

“What?” he shrugged. “Never seen a grapple before?”

“Nope.”

“You mean you never learned to use one in ninja school?”

Robin scoffed at his use of the term, answered: “Nothing like this.”

“Hey, that’s why we’re here. Get you caught up to speed. Now, the mechanics are easy enough. It’s all in the execution. You familiar with Smash Brothers?”

Robin’s incredulous expression was enough of a tell.

“Right, right. Raised in a cave. Well, if you _were_ familiar you’d know about Falco, and if you knew about Falco, you’d know about the up and down.” Nightwing pointed to the handle of the grapple, bringing attention to the two triggers behind the guard. “The rear trigger is the one you’ll use most. That fires the grapple. Once it’s hooked, you’ll need to keep it held down until you’re at the apex of your swing. Releasing that trigger unhooks you from your anchor point. With me so far?”

“So far. What about the front trigger?”

“This is where the up and down comes in. Press that down and the line retracts into the casing with help from a small motor. You really only need this one to get started. When you get used to the dynamic between the two triggers, you can send yourself flying.”

“Sounds good to me!”

Nightwing was on the verge of wistful when Robin made her exclamation. The realization hit like cold water when all he saw was the last sliver of her cape. The cable was seen before she was; then, Robin was shooting into the murky Gotham sky. She released the grapple’s first hold and let herself twirl in the air, weightless. With an extended arm, she fired the hook a second time. When it caught hold, she depressed the lead trigger and zipped ahead, perpendicular to the ground below. She let the hook detach itself and watched the cable retract fully. She was floating – flying as Nightwing said. Before she could fall too far and use her grapple, she was yanked from the air by a strong arm under her shoulder. She and Nightwing were both laughing as they swung down to a wide rooftop below.

“I wasn’t done with the lesson!” he said breathlessly.

“I was!”

“Yeah,” Nightwing tried and failed to be stern, “That’s what I’m afraid of. I appreciate a quick study, but I need you to stay close, Little Bird. It’s scary out there, which is why Batman has us working together. Got it?”

Robin looked like she wanted to sass in response to that; instead, she put on a tight grin and nodded quickly. Nightwing stepped over to the roof’s edge and pointed to the rooftop directly below.

“Watch this.”

On that word, Nightwing fell headfirst with his arms pressed to his side. After a short distance, he opened them to reveal a transparent undercarriage melded to his suit. He caught the warm breeze and used it to glide straight down. When he landed, he concealed his ‘webbing’ with a _zip!_ and looked up. Robin was waiting where he left her.

“It’ll be easier for you!” Nightwing yelled upward. “You and Bats both have weighted tips in your capes to make things more malleable! Should catch air real good! Give it a shot!” Nightwing put up his hands, arms outstretched. Highly unlikely he’d manage to catch her just standing there but the message was clear. _I’ve got you_.

Robin took the step before she could reconsider and fell for two seconds before unfurling her cape. It twisted and flapped at first, then caught wind suddenly, sending her very quickly back into the air. She was going to overshoot the roof by yards and Nightwing ran to enter her line of sight and give her direction. He pointed and yelled for her to bank hard left; she did, tracing a large, rounded path back to the building. Back on course but coming in too hot now. Nightwing lined up her angle of descent, then sprinted ahead until he felt something heavy crash into his chest. From his backside, he gave a comforting pat to the Bird Wonder who was shaking – adrenaline racing, no doubt.

“Not bad. We’ll work on steering next. And landing.”

“Y-yeah…”

 

\---------------------------

 

Jim Gordon shielded his lighter as he ignited his cigarette. It was his second one since they arrived at the bridge an hour ago.

“Hernandez!” he barked. “For Chrissake stop pacing. You’re making _me_ anxious.”

“Sorry, sir,” she murmured, “I just don’t like being so close.”

“None of us do. Lucky you, though. You don’t have to get any closer.”

“Why’s that?”

“Commissioner! Airborne at three o’ clock!”

Gordon acknowledged the male voice and looked to see two large shapes coasting downward to his position. “That’s why.”

He could make out two young adults in masks approaching him on two feet. He recognized one of them. The other was a familiar outfit worn by a stranger. The shadow of a Gotham long gone enclosing a new face.

“Hrm… Doesn’t even do his own recon anymore, huh?”

“You assume he didn’t just send me to do it from the start. Good seein’ ya, Captain.”

“It’s ‘Commissioner’ to you.”

“Ahh! Look at you! Planting the boot finally paid off, huh?”

“Heh. We’ll see.” Gordon gestured with his cigarette in the general direction of the shorter cape, who responded with a very familiar scowl. “Is this who I think it is?”

Nightwing hesitated around the answer he wanted to supply. Gordon took a drag and watched the younger man step back to his companion’s side. “Sh- No, _they_ are gonna be joining me and the Boss for tomorrow night’s infiltration. The name is Robin.”

“Then that’s the name I’ll use. Good to have you along, Robin.”

Robin nodded stiffly, not saying a word. Gordon chewed on his smoke and beckoned Nightwing to follow him past the police tape to the damaged bridge.

“What’s the deal there? Are they mute?”

“It’s Robin’s first night. Pretty nervous. They don’t talk much anyway.”

“Robin’s shy? Not possible.”

Nightwing caught that remark and returned an easy smile. “Nothing stays the same forever, Jim.”

“Don’t have to tell me. Look at this.” The two men stopped short of the missing section of road, that extended from one end of the bridge to the other. The main path from Gotham City to the South Quarter was incumbered. “The ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign was too subtle.”

“I see you’ve respected their wishes,” Nightwing said as he waved to a sniper near the top of the wall.

“Nope,” Gordon huffed, tossing the cigarette butt into the dirty water below them. “We’ve got people on the inside right now. Cash and his crew, a few doctors as well.”

“That bad?”

“Worse. And don’t give that look. I’m not crazy. I didn’t send them in there to tear the place down. There are innocent people on the other side of that wall who early as last week were just trying to live their lives. Now, they are surrounded and trapped in that hell hole.” Gordon looked in the direction they walked from; Robin was standing in the exact same spot, now wearing a hood to shroud their face. “Great,” he sighed, “Are they ready for this?”

“They’ll need to be.”

“Do you _think_ they’re ready?”

“Wasn’t my call, Jim. My word’s worth squat.”

“Bullshit. Robin is with you, not him. That doesn’t say ‘squat’ to me. This is not a one-team job, so I need to know right now, son. Do you think they’re ready?”

Nightwing turned fully to share a look with Robin that Gordon couldn’t quite decipher. That moment was disrupted by a single red light flashing by their boots. Gordon and Nightwing looked back to the top of the wall. Even from their distance, they could make out a red suit and white mask. The unknown figure waved down to them, hauled the huge rifle over their shoulder and disappeared into Arkham City.

“Robin will be ready. I just need to make sure I am.”

 

\---------------------------

 

_knock! knock! knock!_

_slide!_

“Who the f- Oh, i-it’s you…” _clack!_ “He’s here, Mr. Cobblepot!”

“Open the bastard door, then!”

A small group of large, burly men stepped with a purpose into the shuttered store front now being used as The Penguin’s hideout. These men stepped aside to allow Cobblepot to greet his actual guest. First, he saw the thin, pale arm of Harley Quinn - who was _not_ his guest - followed closely by the mastermind of it all.

“A pleasure to see you, Mister J. I know you don’t step out that often these days.”

“Pee-shaaaaw! Anything for you, Ozzie Baby!” The Joker’s trademark smile dimmed in a second. He spoke his next words low and soberly. “So long as you have what I came for. My…friends and I don’t like to waste our time.”

Cobblepot swallowed thickly, then hurriedly waved his hands to a man on the side. He took the metal container that was passed to him and pushed it roughly into Joker’s hands. The Clown glanced down and back up, never breaking eye contact as he unclasped the case.

“It’s all there, Joker. Two hundred large, just as we discussed. Now, ‘ave you brought what I asked?”

Joker resumed smiling as he closed the case and passed it off to Harley. No one had a chance to react as Joker leaned forward, grabbed Cobblepot and planted him with a long, messy kiss. Joker and Harley were crashed against each other with laughter, Cobblepot sputtering in his seat.

“Ozzie, you _doll_ you! You remembered!” Joker raised a single hand and snapped twice. The handle of a briefcase appeared in his hand for him to take it overhead and slam it onto the table, nearly cracking the aged wood. In one motion, he snapped the casing open and spun it to face Penguin. “As promised…” he slurred. “ _X!_ Marks the spot. Just for you, Pengo.”

“Mista Jay? I get to carry the loot this time, right?”

“Babe, I won’t let anyone else get their grubby hands on it.”

“Aww! You’re so good to me!”

“I know I am.” Joker grabbed a fistful of the woman’s hair, prompting a sudden, giddy squeal. “And I know that’s not what you like best, is it?”

“Ahem! I’ve business to attend to! Be so kind now as to bugger off!”

“Can it, Oswald!” Harley chirped. “You ain’t foolin’ anybody with your big talk or that snooty accent.” The woman pinched down hard on his nose. “Why do you talk like that, anyway? You’re a Southie, you big dweeb!”

Shrieking laughter was cut off by Penguin’s bodyguard grabbing Quinn by the mouth. Joker’s men drew their arms, prepared to retaliate until he waved them off. He wasn’t smiling anymore. The large man pulled Harley in closer until her bangs were ruffled by the heat of his breath.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t-”

_pop!_

Quinn released a breathy laugh as the man’s hold evaporated, not of his own will. He slumped backward against the wall before falling straight down: one clean round to the skull.

“Alls I need is one, Puddin’.”

Joker seconded the motion by sweeping her into a deep kiss. He broke it and said, “That’s what I call money well spent. Vamos!”

The Joker, Harley Quinn, and their crew filed out of the room into the midnight streets of South Gotham. Not a moment after they crossed the threshold, the metal door was slammed shut by the now terrified young man who was fumbling his way through engaging the locks as quickly as he could.

Cobblepot shut the briefcase and ordered the two other men to “Clean that mess up,” pointing vaguely in the direction of the still-cooling body. Each one grabbed an arm and hauled their cargo to the back of the building. The kid by the door took one shaky step, then another, then came the rest of the way to where his boss sat once he deemed it safe to do so.

“What…the fuck was that, man?”

“What do you bloody think it was, boy?”

“Oh… Oh, God. Deadshot’s in here, too? And he’s working for Joker?”

“He’s not ‘working for Joker.’ He’s working for Joker’s clown bitch girlfriend, which is why that muppet back there is dead and I’m not!”

“I…I don’t know about this I… You didn’t say-”

“Stop yourself! Now listen ‘ere. We’ve no time for this rot, understand? Shit is about to get very serious, very quickly. And this ‘ere is why!”

“That looks like one of Freeze’s gadgets.”

“How right you are! Mr. J was generous to include contraband. All I asked for was this little guy here.”

“No shit? Just that piece of paper?”

Penguin angrily slapped the paper repeatedly. “Not the bloody paper, what’s _on_ the paper! Old Gotham legend tells of a horrid force of nature hidden somewhere in the South Quarter. It’s the end-all. Not even Superman could stop it.”

“But… Superman doesn’t-”

“That isn’t important ya little twerp! What matters is that this little bit of paper will lead us right to it and if we can control it, we control this town! Now, you can leave. Walk right out that door and fend for yourself on the streets of Arkham. Or you stay with me, I give you food, protection, and a cut of the fat stack we just made. Haha! You’ll get a bigger cut now, I s’pose, won’t ya? Hahaha!”

“Yeah, I could really use the money.”

“We all could, Junior. Now get outta here. Get your sleep. We need to prepare. I told you blokes the Regime was comin’ to an end an’ I meant it!”

“That’s great, Mr. Cobblepot sir, but…why would Joker give you the secret to taking over Gotham?”

"Feh! You really think the Clown wants to ‘take over’ the same bastard city that’s kicked him in the arse for ten years? No, mate. He wants the same thing as the rest of us fuckin' blokes. As soon as the Bat shows his cold, dead eyes inside these walls, we’re gonna mob ‘im and brutalize ‘im and string ‘im up! And _then!_ We’re gonna put the bag on ‘is fuckin’ head! And we’re gonna pull the lever back and say ‘Buh-bye, you twisted little shit!’ Buh-bye! I’m takin’ it all back! You hear me, Batman?! My fortune! My property! My family’s good name! I’m takin’ back everything you stole from me! And all it’s gonna cost you! Is your _life!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Culture Context:
> 
> "Hai" is the Japanese word for "Yes" but is also used for affirmative interjection.
> 
> "Yame" (pronounced Yah-Meh) is the Japanese word for "Stop" used in this case as a command.
> 
> These are likely the first words you will hear from a sempai if you enroll in their class.


End file.
